To sit in the evening air and strive to find a word or deed that would inspire. Can often become a tiring deed, Every word alone cannot fit, nor deed by those about can fill that void. A void that is that unwritten poem as in my case. That missing link that ties all together to help form that artistic form that is the unfinished piece.
Such was the case today as I sat to write, I became filled with a void that haunted me, No words would fill or fit together to result in the poetic aim. In such times I change the scene, brew a coffee and sit with music to inspire. Thus the resulting finished piece is as seen below. By far in my opinion below my standard fitting a poem I would be happy with.
But yet it is a finsihed piece that has come about…
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The Reluctant Poet 