In side looking out. ~The Poet’s Poet~

Wind torn country side

Early morning day light ebbing away

The chill of winter feeding into the bones

Turning to the landscape for inspiration

Little forthcoming

Bereft of animal

Water logged fields

All fail to inspire.

Unobserved he slithers back into his cocoon 

Captain of his pen seemingly defeated.

But wait, he could if so inclined turn this poem around

It would change nothing though

Splintered words would continue to fall

So he’ll sit and suffer in his dark shady room

Draw a quilt over his head drown out the sound of winter.

(c) Chris Black. December 2018

#Poetry #amwriting

Advertisement

Leave a comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.