Attempts At Words

Attempts

put it back

away, quit the

reading. Feeling

though a prick

of guilt to say,


Why read and read

wow, awe, and coo

at another

always another

never digging, tripping

and scripting a word

or two

of my own?


'n then it stops

quick as it starts

a still birth,

a word aborted,

a steady stream

of controlled breathing

only to end

in a cough.


is that not the way

it is? Always

quick from the blocks

staccato hoof beats

in a dusty dream whirlwind

'n then it stops.


Dreams run on whispy

steam. Blown by

gentlest contrary

breeze, their phantom

fingers curl away

as quick as they come.


'n then

when it is stopped

we halt. Stand

stare and stutter

"it was a grand

idea, once."


'n then we read

wow, awe, and coo

at another

always another,

always digging, tripping

and scripting a word

or two

of her own.


© 2011 David B. Ward, All Rights Reserved

Comments 1 comment

Phoebe Pike 5 years ago

This poem describes how I feel whenever I attempt to write poetry. I read so much of it, but I can never seem to get the words right when I try to write it myself.

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