Stumble, Stumbling, Stumbled, Stumped

Inadequately I stumble, I tremble, I mumble to try and create something adequate [to write] to read.

Promptly complicated thusly

overrated—meander seems

appropriate now.

round and round I go with a

word in each pocket and a pen like a rocket

but with a mind that’s moving too slow.

I’m stuck on a dream two days old,

a fairly ordinary scene that’s succinct

and pretty boring.

there must be something more there.

there must be something more to see.

there must be something I’m

missing, now listing each person, each object, each scene

to recreate to make a speech to

loudly applaud what language can teach,

to play hide and seek each syllable hidden, to tremble

with fear that I’ve written all

there is to write. But wait.

Here it is now again and I have arrived

at this line and everyone is here.

Now again

Now again

Now again

But wait let me start from

the beginning [Ah-hem] : Inadequately

I’ve stumbled, I’ve trembled, I’ve mumbled the

story, which goes like this:

Once upon a time there was a poet. She had a pen.

The End

                                    Cheetah Bird Courtesy MailChimp  2013