Dry Spell Poem by Raynette Eitel
Dry Spell
Rating: ★5.0
Words have stopped,
Songs silenced,
Paints dried, flaking,
Feet no longer tapping rhythms.
It is a sort of death;
Living, yet without breath,
A rigor mortis of the soul,
This halt in creativity.
Something eclipsed
The silver moon of spontaneity,
The rainbow glow of promise,
Leaving only a cold, shadowy
Place to mourn
A loss.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
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4/18/2024 9:43:58 AM # 1.0.0.1119
