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shrink

back bent slouching
the curve pushes you down
belly squishing extended
you shrink from life

alone you notice
your posture, your pain
make it go away

you shrink away
from the weight
the responsibility
descends

down into the mist
of uncertain thoughts
will they know the fake?

rarely tested, the back bends
alone it descends
rushing up to meet you
the floor of the cavern
crashes into you

you turn and smile
when someone enters the room

Teacher’s Comment – A Poem

It would seem to me that
In your opinion the
Smart thing to do would
Be to take the easy road:

Write poetry and
Get rich!

Writer: A Block

Writer: A Block

The writer sits extending his wrists,
And feelings and thought do mix;
Or, the writer walks through wooded fair,
The wind whipping through hair:
The ideas tumble, reeking of trouble,
And furrows the brow from ear to ear;
Family and friends do hide from him,
To pass the writeless day.

The thoughts are there, yet in a fog,
The joyless task today,
Where others won’t tread, to me my home
All lost in mindless stare:
This place without work, it soothes my soul,
Comfort in a knowing loss;
The wordless pages my senses please,
This is where I’m at!

The antenna seems to miss the call
These words of mine fulfill,
The page, my liege, they must be best,
Because they flow from you!
Still all I want (please, oh Muse, grant
Just one complete poem, just one!)
And to write you just deny,
Assist me to desist.

[Based on Robert Burns’ Winter: A Dirge (1910)]


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