Every man is guilty of all the good he did not do.
Whats wrong with me today?
Why can’t I just say
What it is I want to say?
Why can’t the point I want to make
Not cross the turbulent lake
Of my thoughts into the flowing stream
Of words leaving my empty mouth?
What’s wrong with me today?
Why can’t I hear beauty
In the words tumbling from my mouth
Even though they leave me out of breath?
Why can’t I craft art
From what I feel in my heart?
Why can’t I articulate myself
As well as a book on a shelf?
I hope she left me not! My muse.
For a poet with no muse is of no use.
I don’t know
What’s wrong with me today
For ever since I woke from my lay
I noticed I had lost my vocabulary
On the road back from a world imaginary
That left me worn out and very wary.
© 2019 The Poets Peace