Blank Page Speaking

(c) 2001 Howard Dart Humeston

 

I wrote a poem but after five lines it died.
Yet, it’s essence lingers and irks my mood.

Truth is I murdered it as it seemed empty
of meaning, devoid of anything worthwhile
yet the ghost of this nothing poem
struggles for survival,
gazes up from the blank white screen
with one dangling eye begging me

for another chance at meaning,
at sincerity, perhaps even worthiness.

just as I do to God.