Mark Fusunyan

Poetry

Writing poetry can be very tough.
Ideas come and go so very slow.
Sometimes writing a poem can be quite rough.
Sometimes it fills a heavy heart with woe.
 
For me to start a long time I must wait,
To let the pencil fill the blank white page
Until the poem is done it is my fate,
To rot inside this grimy poet’s cage.
 
To catch meaning of life within few words
To grab and hold and never let it go
It is to me a little bit absurd
Although I try my brain often says no
 
So here I am having finished my poem,
I have found my freedom and now must roam





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