Lost Thoughts


I hunger for ancient fire
Breathéd into poet's thought,
Exhaled prose, transformed by writer
Disappears when sought.

A despèrate plea, mumbled to a muse,
"Inspire me," hopeless, spoken to the air.
The air responds, I inhale forgetting
To exhale with skill.
My pen lies still.
And so it is with life and love, I forget.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem