What Is There To Write
WHAT IS THERE TO WRITE
what is there to write?
‘tis a struggle so;
of no words,
nor dreams,
less alone is there thoughts
to escape from memory.
I raise me pen;
a blank canvas
facing me,
can’t write a bleeding thing;
thoughtful energy
is not there to be.
try as I might;
to scribe,
and where a simple sonnet
would suffice,
no fourteen lines
for me to write.
many, not less now;
words start to intrude,
and intertwine
as around and around,
inside to pass me on by,
oh! how I wish it would stop.
then at the end
of another day of sitting,
I’ve come to realize,
some days are fruitful,
other days don’t bare,
of thoughtful wanderings from me soul.
Francis Cooper – Mac © January 2018
Copyright © Francis Cooper-Mckenzie | Year Posted 2020
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