Barren AND Blank

A poem about writing a poem

I start with a page barren and blank
My mind goes somewhere
Maybe to the bottom of my self it sank

And the only world that is yet to come
Is the one in which I write
Sometimes thought up in the day
And some late at night

The thoughts come from somewhere unknown
Maybe an angel dropped a seed from which it grown
But from where it comes none the less
My hand writes but I am powerless

I do not feel sly or slanted
simply curious of the world being created
how will it look, taste, sound and feel
and will others like it and think it real

will it be a world of thoughts
Or a world of things
One that brings joy to the heart
Or one that stings

As I sit and watch
Perhaps a pond where
I’m anticipating the ripples of landing geese
Things seem to come together piece by piece

I am nothing more than a bum
Hungry for food and in search for a crumb
I suppose it would be me you would either scold or thank
Tis I who started with a page barren and blank