Friday, August 11, 2017


                    A whiff of inspiration wafts to uplift
                    My spirits and inspire me to write,
                    Until which I’ve sat placid and adrift,
                    But once my poem’s begun, it sails along
                    Propelled by gusts of notions from beyond,
                    Mysteriously emerging into song
                    As if proceeding from a magic wand.
                    Then at its turn, right here, it reckons how,
                     With only six lines left it might complete
                    Its train of thought before it takes its bow,
                    Its auditors delighted by my feat.

                          Yet now I must remind myself that you
                          Wish I some better topic would pursue.