A Fettered Page Constrained

Passive menace
steeped in emptiness,
by even a single line,

I’ve stared at you for days

waiting for epiphany
or at the minimum
a hint of communion,
all to no avail.

Wait — do I see
a flicker
of smugness

or is that indifference?
O, you don’t fool me.
You are a void,
without my pen,

just a blank page

in any of a million
ragged scratch pads
bound by gravity,
wired to a silence
that craves imagination.


3 thoughts on “A Fettered Page Constrained

  1. jantanleo

    Oh, I smile & mutter Amen. I love this. When Inspiration lags behind, we pick up our steps. And our pens. Ah, the joy—to respond with a writing about not being able to write.

    “Wake up, Inspiration. Pay attention. Join us.”


    1. Jan,

      This is a rewrite of an oldie. Your ‘missing muse’ poem inspired me to dust it off, polish it a bit, and post it. So, thanks for your comment and for your inspiring poem.


      1. jantanleo

        Bumper-car inspiration is what I call that. I love how old poems rise to the new day, and the still have a strong voice.


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