Glaring at a blank page
A perfect virgin white
Pen in hand, yet topic unclear
Of what will this poet write?
Of young love or new love?
No! Something much less trite!
Of how the planets dance in space
Morning, noon and night?
But how could I describe it?
Something that's out of sight
With imaginative creativity?
With adjectives warm and bright?
But none come to mind
At least none that sound right
So now I lay this poem to rest
I admit I have lost this fight…
I needn't describe what I feel
For a poet knows a poet's plight
Nice poem...I completely identify with your plight...This kind of inertia is understandable...
yea, that says it alright, sometimes they just don't come down and settle on the page, but just fly away.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
An insightful creation nicely put together, focused and factual. Thanks for sharing and do remain enriched.