Sitting in the Hell of Poetry Heaven
A few years back I did a Poemathon just for the hell of it. I wrote a brand new poem every day for a year. Here is the one I did on day107 which I just found at random in a book I never got around to publishing. I even mocked up the cover (see pic).
Anyway here's the poem:
So here I am at Day 107
Sitting in the hell of Poetry Heaven,
Bereft of wisdom, nothing to say
Yet making it rhyme in the usual way,
Taking the blank page and giving it meaning,
Softening the trap with tentative dreaming,
Trying to forget I'm only pretending
Life's play has a plot with denouement pending.