Some days I feel the poetry looming tossing turning in its bed
A wriggling free of ecstasy I can’t quite cram into my head
Other days I just feel nothing and bite the pillow hard
And wish I had a thought to give, some feeling to discard
And there are days I want to scream and roaring shout out from a rock
And envision curling on the floor stuffing silence with a sock
The days when I feel hollow are the days loved least of all
A draining carved out cavern through which I swooning fall
I tender turn these feelings, each on their separate days
And marvel at the mysteries that makes me feel this way
I can’t quite dissect my long respect of good humour from my pain
Its all in jest and yet at best, my joking is in vain
