Ian Kilfoil Poet Free verse

The Poet's Wall

He sits quietly at his desk,
staring at the blank page,
cigarettes and a cup of coffee
his only companions.
He’s lost in his own head,
needing to write,
yet, as if he were in a stupor 
nothing comes.
He knows his head is 
his own worst enemy,
for when he needs to write the most,
nothing comes at all,
except for a pattern of tears,
on the blank page,
I guess you could call that art.
so, he tapes that page to the wall,
and starts anew,
and the walls,
well the walls are papered,
with tear stained pages.

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