|
<center>Word Stacking</center>
Some days the words flow
Rushing out to strike the keys
Lining up on the page
Ideas in black and white
Laid out in careful rows
Statements of love and faith
Future plans, current frustrations
Life as it is or as it could be
Tapping the heart for thoughts
Produces text unbounded
Describing dreams gives wings
To page upon page
There is always the fear
That originality will run dry
Every line becoming as the last
Or worst perhaps
Copying those with more talent
So many artists have turned to ardor
For there is nothing so nebulous
That can cause so much love and pain
Then there are the times
When I envy Sisyphus
Each statement like tearing plastic
Slamming my way to a sentence
The results often jumbled, unbalanced
Not a true representation
Of the fine, glorious passion
Such a simple solution
All I need do is turn my mind
To you.
|