In Poetry Overload am I,
Why has it happened?
I don’t know why.
But it has, and I shouldn’t complain,
I just wish to write a poem again.
Simple thoughts into my Mind come,
Words flow on paper, one line at a time,
What will come next, I do not know?
My pen is poised awaiting the flow.
My pen now hesitates,
My Mind for expectant themes waits,
For Thoughts, Words, Scans and Rhymes
Will come to me in a short time.
When first lines come into my Mind,
I know that to wait would be unkind,
The words would then niggle in my Brain,
Until onto paper I put them again.
© Jonathan Goldman [JGthepoet] - 8 December 2005
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem