A Poets Thoughts
I will try to write a poem,
of what I am not sure,
should I write about the ocean,
or about something on the shore.
There is a lot of freedom,
in the art of paper and pen,
yet alas, I am at a loss,
of what I should present.
Should I write about something huge,
something that will mean much to many,
or should I make a poem of a simple thing,
like the shine and glint of a penny.
I could write about whatever I want,
yet I do not know how to begin,
should I make it flow like the waters' currents,
or should it soar like the winds.
I truly have no idea,
how I get ideas to write,
but tonight it seems I can't rhyme at all,
I can't think of anything tonight.
I sit here and wait for the spark of inspiration,
to come and set me on fiery blaze,
but right now I have no ideas,
I feel like I am lost in a maze.
I stare at the paper in front of me,
just waiting to be filled with words,
but what to write, what to write,
and how can I put it into accord.
I peer outside to see perpetual rain,
I stop thinking and listen,
the rain can inspire many a person,
I thought as I watched it glisten.
I waited and waited for an idea to arrive,
to come to my mind and knock,
it was then I realized that nothing at all,
was the perfect idea for a poem.
of what I am not sure,
should I write about the ocean,
or about something on the shore.
There is a lot of freedom,
in the art of paper and pen,
yet alas, I am at a loss,
of what I should present.
Should I write about something huge,
something that will mean much to many,
or should I make a poem of a simple thing,
like the shine and glint of a penny.
I could write about whatever I want,
yet I do not know how to begin,
should I make it flow like the waters' currents,
or should it soar like the winds.
I truly have no idea,
how I get ideas to write,
but tonight it seems I can't rhyme at all,
I can't think of anything tonight.
I sit here and wait for the spark of inspiration,
to come and set me on fiery blaze,
but right now I have no ideas,
I feel like I am lost in a maze.
I stare at the paper in front of me,
just waiting to be filled with words,
but what to write, what to write,
and how can I put it into accord.
I peer outside to see perpetual rain,
I stop thinking and listen,
the rain can inspire many a person,
I thought as I watched it glisten.
I waited and waited for an idea to arrive,
to come to my mind and knock,
it was then I realized that nothing at all,
was the perfect idea for a poem.
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