Bliss Poem by Kondwani Simwaba

BLISS
I am staring at a piece of paper, with every intention to write;
Except, I have not a thing nor thought in sight nor mind.
I have a great many such nights;
When I fortuitously lay awake in the dead of night,
In efforts to burn the midnight oil by putting pen to paper;
But my Artistic eyes remain shut and blind.
You see, writing has always been my only Morphine;
It helps relieve from me every bit of pain,
But what's a painkiller to numbness?
When even your skin is impervious to a needle prick;
When you lose your head!
When being lightheaded means more than just floating on cloud nine's misty thick;
When your brain is clogged with a blissful thick;
When love has you three sheets to the wind and scrappy;
What's a poet to write about when he is undeniably happy?
RhapsodyArts
KingTMC*