Benched

the hardest part about writing

is getting started,

ideas come and go,

flashing by like out-of-control missiles,

and try as you might,

you just can’t shoot

them down;

some days it feels like

it has all been said before,

so you ask yourself the

age old question;

what is the point?

and the only problem

is that it’s hard to argue

with logic like that;

some of the best stuff

I ever thought of never made it

on a piece of paper,

they’re lying unwritten

on the cutting floor of this

tangled up mind,

never to be seen by the light of day,

they come in the middle of the night,

sometimes only a line or two,

other times the whole thing

complete with title,

but in cases like that,

no matter how great the effort,

by the next day they are gone,

never to be seen again;

in poems written

versus

poems thought of

I’d say I’m batting about .200;

kinda pathetic huh?

with an average like that

I’d say I deserve

to be benched.

.

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