That Moment In Time

Don’t you just love it, that moment in time When you have been lacking a half decent rhyme When sentences started do not feed the next When what your next verse is is leaving you vexed When that first line reads like a Shakespeare or Byron But every line two, trips a ‘Bad Gramma’ siren When that one idea that was smart or ironic Turns out to be, at its best… embryonic When nothing else gels in that dark empty space That lingers above and behind a blank face The grey matter there that is tired and stressed Has let you down badly… by doing its best When all of this and much more is the truth Suddenly you could go dance on the roof You dare not presume that you’ve pulled back that hood But penning one poem feels so Goddammed good.