Monday, March 30, 2009

Poetry Train: Last summer was a cemetery








Last summer
was a cemetery
for poems
that were never born.

Small sperms
of ideas
swam toward
blank eggs
then died.

Long, lazy days
stretched out before
me like miles
of sandy beach

but no waves
of words
begged to live
and all those poems
that could have been,
seeped into the sand
leaving behind
bubbles
of empty foam.

6 comments:

anthonynorth said...

It is sometimes like this. Did you take notes, nevertheless? If so, resurrection can occur.

SweetTalkingGuy.. said...

Great description here, I'm waiting for waves of words right now!

Fledgling Poet said...

Isn't this the truth? Very cleverly written! So many words unused...

gautami tripathy said...

'Small sperms
of ideas
swam toward
blank eggs
then died.'

loved this so very much!


mainline to the heart

susan said...

Hi Linda,

Would you send me a list of 50 words for rwp challenge?

Thanks,

black.eyedsusan@yahoo.com

Erin Davis said...

This is wonderful. Each image is so spot-on. I think I had years of this...

Linda's Poems