Blank paper, white and beckoning
for heart to write and pen to sing
poetic songs of spoken bliss,
or tokens of a longing missed,
will tease my mind to summon new
expressions, fresh as morning dew.
But nothing comes for me to say
that was not said before today,
in witty styles or graceful rhymes,
inviting smiles to ring like chimes–
with rhythmic timing all the while–
how can I conjure unique style?
In hope to make my readers gasp,
with flash of wisdom’s sudden grasp,
or inspiration drawn as dawn
is spawned while sunlight paints the lawn
with verdant light, withdrawing night,
announcing morning with delight.
Perhaps it’s all been said before
but that’s no reason to ignore
the nascent yearning to convey
insight afresh; each muse’s way
will say the same ideas–and yet
each phrase that’s caught like fish in net
must be set free.