the pain of the vacant page                                      stage

for the dance

of my pen

the fear of the frozen mind                                        blind

  to the hope

 of a rhyme

the silence of an empty house                                spouse

to the song

of my word

the hush of unwanted time                                      chime

t...

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what spills onto         the page

falls from                  my mind:

it tells of                   what is there

it tastes of                 my thoughts

so they are                spread here                      with care

                                                                        as verse

the page                    becomes

my mind                    bared

...

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Impulse is the best linguist

So Mr Thoreau thought

And often what is written here

Is spoiled by what is later brought

Yet

All I write and sometimes rhyme

Falls on the page untaught

So needs some tender love and care

Before you see it as you ought

So

The lines you read from any page

Should by your ear be caught

As best words ordered to flow well

With...

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