Whitman and Blake both offer

hope for the wretched

but I am even lower

than those who dwell in

underground of urbane unreality

that murdered thousands last year


and in my hand is held

the pen with clotted ink

unable to scratch

the words of the poem

onto the page. . .


the days of innocence

indeed are gone

but as the tot

is forced from the womb

weaned from Mother’s milk

to solid food—there is still hope


and yet somehow there is

true inspiration to be found

in a rising sun or a view of the sea

breaking waves onto the shore



View georgeschaefer's Full Portfolio
allets's picture

Ink Clotted Pen

An image for all of us who would write reality.




georgeschaefer's picture

my worst nightmare

my worst nightmare

Starward's picture

I like how the final stanza

I like how the final stanza breaks forth with renewed hope inspired by natural phenomena.


[ * /+/ ^ ]

georgeschaefer's picture

nature is still inspiring to

nature is still inspiring to me