INSPIRATION

By Peter Woodgate

The mind is blank,

so too the page,

a mental block

transferring rage.

Why is it that I can’t,

produce a thought,

to place,

within a document,

to face,

the scrutiny of all that read,

a piece of work created,

for the need,

to occupy, their minds,

with someone else’s thoughts?

 

The ink lies dormant

in the pen,

waiting for a surge,

an inspiration, then;

“Eureka”

I have found,

within a recess of my brain,

a notion that,

might seem insane.

 

A poem that ignores the rules

although, it seems,

there are the tools,

within the piece,

to guide the voices

of the readers

who make choices

as they read,

like, when to slow,

and, when to speed.

 

 

Just let it flow

and read aloud,

by yourself

or in a crowd.

Don’t be afraid

to shout, if need,

and treat the essence,

as if, “freed”

from those restrictions

fools apply;

 

just let it out,

reach for the sky

 

 Copyright Peter Woodgate