Where To Begin Poem by Mark Boyle

I sit with pen,
and paper at ready.
Waiting for inspiration,
to come.
Words that rhym,
ring in the ears.
Dogs of War,
Sheep & Sheers.
Were should I start,
it dictates where I end.
A point in the map,
that leads round the bend
A poem, a lymaric,
to fire the blood.
Lashings of hatred,
Passion & Love.
Without these things,
a poem we would have not.
So I sit and I ponder,
for the words that won't come.