The Poet’s Defeat


Let the night unfold as may;
I am sleepless and nocturnal
a carpet of stars lights the way
across blank pages of my journal

Though little light is cast, and sure
No verse forthcoming pours from me
for all the emptiness I endure
One inspired word would set me free

Yet these droplets fall in un-metered rhyme
for me to unravel, on bended knee
I am as useless as soliloquy to a mime
Or autumn leaves to a winter tree

So loose my bonds and set me free
No more my pen to scribe
No vacuous lines of poetry
There’s simply nothing left inside.

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