Writing on Empty

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I was going to write a poem

just the other day

and i tried to think of

exactly what to say

should I try romance

a parable for the heart

how would I allot the space

a double return with

a spate of nature metaphors

to keep the swoons apart


maybe an epic tale of battle

splattering a canvas of readers

from a pallet of blood and gore

with a conclusion heralding

the confusion of all leaders


perhaps a path more esoteric

an excavation of emotions

a tilling of the minds soil

unearthing fear and anger

to see what drives these notions

all are subject to their scheming

and simpler to evoke

the key to loosing demons

that inhabit nightmare dreaming


I found I couldn't make the choice

couldn't match the sense with sound

nor create the necessary rhythm

which in great poetry is found

just flat words upon the page appear

uninteresting and dull

no prodigious kernel to inspire

no sunrise of expression

simply the wage of creative fear


I lay down my pen

put the top on my ink

crumpled the page in a ball

no units of language left in the vault

a slate left barren to think

I relinquished the task

and scored an easy two points

in the pail in the hall


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