Tuesday, April 16, 2013

Poetic constipation

I could not think of what to write. 
I put pen to page and had a fright
because nothing good came to mind. 
My endless words became hard to find. 

For whom do I write and what should I say?
For a poet to run dry is a very sad day. 
For whom do I write and what is my art?
I really hate this mental word fart. 

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