Sometimes Nothing Poem by Michael Garrett

Sometimes I have nothing to say,
however I still feel the urge to sit and write and Play
with words.
To feel them and work them like
a sculptor with their clay.

Blabbering about the things I see
or feel, the flow of the words be
comes a steady pour that I can hardly tell
what to ignore or what should be trashed
like I tend to be.

I wonder how many half done
statues are mashed, despised by the artist
and resurrected into something beautiful.
I have a few things in my life that are beautiful
and I love.

But like I told you at the start
for my part, I really had nothing to say
With my verbal clay and I am already starting to dislike
this statue.
Perhaps I will put on my god hat and destroy it.

I do like the feel of the moisture
on my brain fingers
as I work and mold into something
that may bring a smile or sneer
to your face.

Perhaps it just helps to lubricate
my mind when the time to drink
hasn't arrived and whiskey and beer
dance like sugar plums at
Christmas time.

Maybe I'm just waiting to get drunk.