My hand moves slowly
Here I sit
In a dreadful pit
Struggling to write a single word
With a silver single ball point
My fingers located correctly in the joint
My hand moves slowly
Over the whiteness of the paper
But the words get eaten by my eraser
My mind is like a block
My imagination's mouth is stuffed with a sock
Struggling to spew ideas
Like a bird
Trying to find a mate
As if it's destined to be fate
Finally I start to write a line
Slim and fine
Until a whole stanza is formed
Waiting to be joined by another
Like a little child with his mother
So finally my poem is done
It was a struggle but a whole lot of fun!
STAI LEGGENDO
Thorns of Life
PoesiaVOLUME 1 If time could turn back in clocks Maybe then I'd free you from those locks If time travel were possible To the past, for you I would go I would save you from yourself Give you some helpful advice I wish I could do things differently, Maybe...
