Listening to every heart
The Poet's Dilemma
God, I'm stretching, thinking old things over again,
wondering if a new idea will come, and when,
even going to the poets to read all their fine work,
coming back to blank pages, it's making me shirk.
Have I no new ideas today, reading of moments far away,
seeing leaves dance, and jokes put forth in rhyme's sway,
seeing bugs run away, out of pure fear, and silhouettes dear,
and watching others write of continued holiday cheer.
So here I sit, in pure brain-freeze exquisite misery
that I cannot find one word to share with thee,
ah, the feeling is there, but perhaps buried too deep
while my muse so thoughtlessly in rapture sleeps.
So seeing no words come to me in purest form,
I shall away my thoughts to perhaps early morn,
and take my Poet's Prayer to my bedside,
"Dear Lord, from me, please let no words hide."
1 December 1999
Look, then, into thine heart, and write ~~~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
[This message has been edited by Sunshine (edited 12-01-1999).]