i used to have poetry



i used to have poetry, before my mind broke,

shattering into some hundred-million glittering shards,

and when it fractured, i think the words went with it.

they don’t come ‘round much anymore,


‘cept in annoying Seussian couplets of subjects mundane,

the banality of which makes me totally insane.


there was a time when the words flowed like water,

sentences would spring fully-formed in my head,

too many to attend to so i let some go,

let them drift away off into the ether,

committed to nary a scrap of paper,

fully unrecoverable.


i wish i had them now,

a point of reference to get me going, a stepping-stone.

i wait impatiently

now that the patchwork is taking hold,

for something to inspire or bring words by on wings.

i’m anticipating motivation

while refusing to remember

there was also a time, before my mind broke,

that i worked at it.

By Em

I like writing. Words help me unpack my thoughts so things start to make sense. I suppose that once I figure out life, the universe, and everything (my thanks to Douglas Adams), I'll have nothing left to say. "Writing is an exploration. You start from nothing, and learn as you go." E. L. Doctorow

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