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