Apologies to my readers
The words which I
So enjoy and the
Stories that they spin
Somehow got stuck caught
Or simply dried up
Maybe I got tired
Perhaps I grew old
At any rate I
Decided to step away
Step down and stop
I have discovered in
My long long life
That when anything stops
Being a joy then
It’s best to sleep
Repair renew and dream
Sometimes you just don’t
Can’t won’t or will
Sometimes the desire is
Gone keeping you still
And quiet faraway from
Writing like a pill
Whether swallowed or penned
Simply paying the bill
For things already written
One day I hope
That someone will read
These words and wish
That they’d been written
And read to him
I do get tired
Talking to the flowers
That sprouted from seeds
That I had planted
Just once I wish
That a flower would
Talk to me knowing
That it seeing me
Is what makes me
Into a beautiful poem
Sleep I do
Sleep I must
Dreams they woo
Dreams they dust
Wake I too
Wake I trust
Day we shoo
Day we bust
Night it soothes
Night it shush’s
There is a game
One in which there
Is never a winner
Or even a loser
Just carnage abysmal carnage
And like most carnage
It gets burned buried
And forgotten to make
Room for more games
And more carnage yet
It’s a game played
Every four years and
Nothing ever changes except
The depth of dead
Will we ever learn
This needs to change
