The Poem I Never Wrote

Frozen in time,rhythm and rhyme.

The Poem I Never Wrote

That poem I meant to write faded somehow as I stumbled and landed in a pile of autumn leaves, browned with age, like all things as time passes.

There was an old stump, I never saw it. It reached out and grabbed my leg causing me to fall hard.

And so that poem I had intended on writing never got written, or wroten, or what ever the proper usage shall be.

And I hide behind my shield of good intentions, nothing ever getting accomplished.

And continue to continue, my life goes on and on with nothing to show but a bruise on my knee where I fell today.

It was a wonderfully thought out poem, just for you, but now it's gone in a pile of old dead leaves. The words escape me, my recollection of them but a vapor like mist.

I sit down now to write the poem that never got written, or wrote or whatever the proper usage shall be, and wonder of Scarborough Fair, true loves of mine, of rosemary and tyme, of deep forest green, her hair, burnt auburn, framing her blue eyes, lighting up as she smiles, finally completed with countless freckles spattered here and there.

I stand and walk away, leaving behind a blank page where my mind refuses to reveal its inner thoughts, frozen like Arctic glades.

And the poem that was never written remains unwritten, or unwrote, or whatever the proper usage dictates.

Author's Note

I don't know if this actually qualifies as poetry.
I wonder, how many poems have not been written, or wrote, or whatever the proper usage.

Reviews

[Karmee]

i enjoyed these last few lines the best. This is wonderful

[Alice Poésy]

Aah, you captured that moment when those slippery words escape from our minds and are never written down to be remembered. The repetition of that phrase: "the poem that was never written remains unwritten..." wonderfully illustrates it. Really well thought out. Let's hope we'll have less bruises and more poems :)

[zunie frost]

wow !! nice title ...
very unique thought my friend !!
love this

[M.E.Lyle]

Thanks for dropping by. Glad you liked it.

[Marvin Thomas Cox-Flynn..]

In a strange way, this piece is poetic in its presentation of such poetic injustice as possessing the muse and inspiration for a piece that is truly meaningful to us, and to then lose it before we get the opportunity to write it down ... Many have been the times that I awoke at night, or had a moment during the day, when an idea for a poem or story would flash into my mind, with me knowing that I had something worth saving, but I fooled myself into thinking I would be able to retain that moment's inspiration until it was convenient to write it down ... I have lost track of how many times I was wrong in such thinking, and of the lines of whatever inspiration I held in my mind ever so briefly that are now gone forever ... I can relate to this piece, all too easily ...

[Samuel Dickens]

I don't know what it is, but I like. It takes me back to another time, when wine was either sweeter or more bitterer, whatever the usage is. One of those stumps grabbed me one time, too.

[Ted Kniffen]

I like it! Too many of us have a poem start in our heads, and by the time we get foolscap (aptly named) or paper bag or toilet paper, it's gone. There' not much to change, other than the spelling of thyme, but that could be intentional, which would still be good.
I love things like this when they're wroten well.

Ted

[Cherrie Palmer]

Your images were vivid and beautiful. This is a poem for those who do not think they like poetry. You sneak right up to the reader with words of grace and image's of gold.

[Woody]

I don't know if it qualifies as poetry either, Mike. but I sure as hell like it a lot. short but well written.
Paul Simon would've approved, no doubt.