Waiting for a Train

Have you ever really, really wanted to write a poem, but you just couldn’t come up with something that you felt like writing about?  That’s how I’ve been the last couple of days.

Words rattle around my brain

Bouncing off my mental walls

Nothing sticking, it all falls

Into puddles of ink rain


Like a bottle of pop shaken

Pressure builds of thoughts

Ideas on the page caught

But shape they haven’t taken


The words come formless as the foam

Not a phrase to hang a poem upon

Like melting ice, too soon they’re gone

Too far my mind continues to roam


With ticket held in eager hands

I await the next creative train

To ease the literary strain

When words will flow like desert sands

3 thoughts on “Waiting for a Train

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