I got a really good response the last time I did a last minute poem, so I decided to give it another go…not promising anything great, but maybe it will be at least decent.
I can’t seem to get the words out
Of my fingers and onto the page
They’re stuck inside, confined
To a dungeon I didn’t create.
It’s musty and dirty,
my thoughts become water logged
drowning in an ocean
of sweat and tears.
I reach down deep into the puddles
saving what I can
here, there and everywhere,
but the final stanza seems beyond my grasp.
On one side’s my past
All soggy and fading
On the other side’s my future
Dry but yet unreadable
As I grab the pieces of my present
To try to make it come out right,
I see the future pages
filling in, but just out of my sight.
The pages I pick up slip one,
then two, three and four out of my hand
Into the past pages
Sinking lower and lower.
It’s then I realize it’s pointless to bother
It’s either fading or hasn’t been written
The in between slides quickly
Into the former.
Where do I find my words then
While they’re slipping away?
I guess I must write them as they happen
before they’re taken away.
I know that was kind of rough…but I hope you liked it a little. Let me know what you think! (The words were flowing as easy as I feel they should, so I ended this 15 minutes in…maybe I will feel more inspired at a later date)