That's what
I need right now,
a new poem...
one that makes me
rise up & out!
cross legged
hand's lassood!
nothing,
just a worn out plectrum,
scissors, blade down
in a green plastic pot,
different kinds of old camera,
around my feet,
that require film...
I was going to say
'momentarily',
but that's like stopping
the verbiage in mid air...
sip the lukewarm coffee
stare right down into it!
cross my arms
then undo them,
write this...
cross them again,
until they slide away
(to follow this up...)
feel around my waistband,
thatch ten reddish fingers!
adjust a blue sleeve
fold both arms...key tapping,
(in between) ,
itch a part of my left ear,
where the curve on my reading
specs hang,
fingers on chin white stubble,
feint with garlic,
yesterdays cooking plight,
sniffing....
possibility sinks again,
to the very bottom....
and in the mud pool,
of thought, the result!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I feel the same way you do..poetic words lost in my mind's muck..where did the Muse of inspiration go? Good poem.. a ten from me..