Somewhere between the now and then
A biblical calm is scattered
An envy staves this poet’s pen
A writer who can’t find the words
How strange it seems that overnight
I’ve become poetic dullard
It’s nearly physical my fright
A writer who can’t find the words
Never again my words to be
This change of heart has me cowered
The hold this loss has placed on me
A writer who can’t find the words
Voice – pen, all is one, one is all
Says those with the means to be heard
What’s there to hear when silence calls
A writer who can’t find the words
My dormitory holds no peace
The mystical moist night air girds
All jibes or remarks’ sweet release
A writer who can’t find the words
Indoctrinate to gratify
Failing what I thought mastered
My thoughts once swift to satisfy
A writer who can’t find the words
My soul feels desperation’s score
Like knowing prayers won’t be answered
How the cold silence stretches for
A writer who can’t find the words
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A return to the Kyrielle from, entered intodVerse ~Poets Pub | FormForALL – Kyrielle