Straining On The Ropes.
Straining against the ropes
What is drawn from
the well of ink,
often comeslike a fighter
beating his
own brains out
against a mental
blockhead
empty of victory
straining at the ropes.....
....tugging my heartstrings
of inspiration, into
scripted flow.
Then it is
spilled with tears,
or cavorts with joy,
over pages of white,
where it marks
the minds of many,
and stains the souls
of those who truly care.
Thus you are a
valued reader,
far more than I
a mere writer of
melancholy murmurs
and passions
winged flutters.
For without
the readers heart
being moved,
I would have
no beat to follow,
in my tedious lines.
Without the gasps of joy,
or the trickle of tears,
I could share little of
my inspiration except,
within my own soul,
and that would be,
only an echo of what
was already felt.
Much like a
pen without ink
poets without readers
has little of substance
to mark their passing.
As a pencil
without an eraser,
a poet can be led
into mistakes left,
but the eraser is the
critiques of peers
and readers,
which helps to ]
correct the flaws
that a poet's eyes
alone cannot catch.
For this act of kindness
rendered with one's
eyes and mind,
"I thank you,"
in the minuscule
penning left above.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~©-MFB III