Unwan Poems | Examples

The Fallow Fields

When rhymes forsake me, my pen's then bled dry;
     and eloquent lines rich in metaphor
die before the inkwell's used up, here and by:
     for the once-teeming storehouse reservoirs
of song flee my page, though write in hope I try!

“How to awaken the dead muse again?”
     I plead. “O what answer, what remedy
are main: the keys to my mind's creative drain!?”
     So, in distress, to God I make my plea.

I let the tired fields of my mind lie fallow:
     and as time passed, my pen regains its powers;
so new strains sing unwan and unsallow,
     and antique odes on clouds and daffodil flowers

may refresh this infant, newborn sonnet,
with life from this present time, and planet.