No Easy Job

Writing poems. It should be an easy job after all of this. I should be used to it by now, right?

 

Still

 

I’m still waiting
for this poem’s beginning

I sit blank-faced
brain popcorning bits
of yesterday, last week
and the residue of dreams
half images amid one-sided 
scraps of overhead phone calls

Across the room numbers
flash on the cable box’s display
time flips by      relentless
in its silent fashion        still
there is a poem to write
and only me here to do it

I’m still waiting
still waiting to begin


[If you’re enjoying my poems, why not check me – Brenda Joyce Patterson – out on social media: Facebook, Twitter, and my website. Or sign up for my newsletter.]

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