ABC

Start of the month feeling cold,
Start of the July getting old.
Got my nodad cardigan on,
Can't remember were 
I bought it from.

Usually day woke in the morn,
Wondering why I had been born.
Jumped up got out of bed,
Rhymes of the day,
Rolled around my head.

Picking up a pen I want to write,
But there's not a rhyme inside.
Even though the ideas are there, 
There's nothing left to feed the abc
That rolled around within my head,
It's almost as though the abc's are dead.



Poetry by Alan J Ripley The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 145 times
Written on 2022-07-05 at 01:07

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Griffonner The PoetBay support member heart!
You poem mad me think that what you describe happens to us all. Then, on another day, you wake and there's that line in your head: Innocent, tantalising, leading where? Only our pens no where.
Blessings. Allen
2022-07-05


arquious The PoetBay support member heart!
Sometimes the Muse nods off or wanders about without leave.
2022-07-05