Lyrics once flowed like lava, the poet’s symphonic eruption
A cascade of prose and limerick finding adulation
Now the bard looks but finds no inspiration
Halted by a cool windswept inundation
Will the sureness of time induce percolation?
Molten flow now molten ash,
Dissipating steam mocks him, now He’s not so brash
Peering into the emptiness elbows resting on the sash
To evoke the magic and flow again he would surely take the lash
Hands envelop his countenance and tears begin to splash.
His craft is a finicky mistress, writhing on the bed
Pen and paper in his hand but nothing in his head
His artistic foreplay stunted, every thoughts been bled
Perhaps it’s gone forever, a new lover in his stead?