That Moment In Time
Don’t you just love it, that moment in time
When you have been lacking a half decent rhyme
When sentences started do not feed the next
When what your next verse is is leaving you vexed
When that first line reads like a Shakespeare or Byron
But every line two, trips a ‘Bad Gramma’ siren
When that one idea that was smart or ironic
Turns out to be, at its best… embryonic
When nothing else gels in that dark empty space
That lingers above and behind a blank face
The grey matter there that is tired and stressed
Has let you down badly… by doing its best
When all of this and much more is the truth
Suddenly you could go dance on the roof
You dare not presume that you’ve pulled back that hood
But penning one poem feels so Goddammed good.
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