"I want to thank all those from around the world who come and read the poetry that God inspires me with. This site shall always be totally free for everyone with no tracking, pop-ups or other distractions." ~louis gander

November 19, 2016

You Know Me Well 11-19-16


My breath on pane
is all in vain.
It's bitter cold outside.
With fog on glass,
the hours pass.
I swallow deep, my pride.

The plume atop
my quill would stop
with only me to thank.
There are no herds
of rhyming words.
My frozen mind is blank.

I pray to God
but find it odd
that rhyme's don't come to me.
At any cost
I am so lost.
Is this just meant to be?

But it is rare,
that I would dare
to leave before I write.
Though inkwell's here
words disappear
on parchment through the night.

Not thinking 'prose'
my words are froze
just as it is outdoors -
with barren trees
all stripped of leaves,
like extinct dinosaurs.

Now I confess
that I digress
from what I want to say.
It sure does seem
I'm losing steam.
My poem drifts away.

Should I explore
my mind some more -
that's vast as the frontier -
or let you think
I'm out of ink
and end this poem here?

Oh, what's the use
for such a truce?
I'm finished anyhow.
I sure can tell
you know me well.
You're raising one eyebrow.

©2016 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

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