POET'S LAMENT
POET’S LAMENT*
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Under the night's blank canvas,
I sit, a lone figure,
my ink-stained fingers poised.
I carry the burden of unsaid poetry,
ideas that were never expressed,
and metaphors that disappeared like echoes.
I linger upon the rhymes that unraveled
like threads pulled from an old sweater,
frayed and forgotten, lost in the seams of time.
I am lost in the fabric of language
unable to stitch together
an ensemble of cohesive words.
In dawn’s quiet hours, I wait for inspiration,
for the first light to break, to spill over
into the edges of my thoughts.
I sit, a solitary figure
my weary mind suspended
beneath the empty canvas of daylight.
Under the night's blank canvas,
I sit, a lone figure,
my ink-stained fingers poised.
I carry the burden of unsaid poetry,
ideas that were never expressed,
and metaphors that disappeared like echoes.
I linger upon the rhymes that unraveled
like threads pulled from an old sweater,
frayed and forgotten, lost in the seams of time.
I am lost in the fabric of language
unable to stitch together
an ensemble of cohesive words.
In dawn’s quiet hours, I wait for inspiration,
for the first light to break, to spill over
into the edges of my thoughts.
I sit, a solitary figure
my weary mind suspended
beneath the empty canvas of daylight
*Note: Poem published at Poetry Soup, June 2025 (poetrysoup.com/poem/a_poets_lament_1747589) but later deleted. This is my original poem.
Copyright ©
Sara Etgen-Baker
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