THE POEM I KNEW NOTHING ABOUT

I wouldn't want to lie
Nor fix anything around
Than to write something sweet
On the Poem I knew nothing about.

I just resurrected from a Symptom,
A Fever which kept my hands on a roll
And a body which shivered just as much
Took my Inspiration on hold.

Perhaps it was really my Imagination
When my Verses ceased to play fair
Rather they took a jolly-good-ride
And played with the scent of my hair.

Good Lord! Within this Utter Misery
I failed as a Writer incapable to write
Even for just a simple, old Tune
Which failed to sing for the Light.

And yet, I still would not give up
No Sir, I still stand by my Poetic Name
I will rise once again and prove to you Readers
That a Bard's Life is not just a Game.

And I will sing once more for Memory
I will sing with the Hope that the Lord does Heal
He revives my Spirit in the very right time
He burns my Anxiety for His Love to reveal.

Then I'd settle for an Apple-and-Lime Juice
With Vitamins and Minerals all packed-in
Drinking it heartily I believe will make me Strong
And keep my Wretched Hands out of Sin.

When everything else is over, my Life begins at Bed
Writing things too far off for the Average Mind to be Devout
It was at that time that I'd finish-off my Hard-Broken Lines
On the Poem I knew nothing about.