A frustrated poet By aldo kraas, www.PoetryPoem.com/poet11586 Unlock all Features - Upgrade to Poetry Prime
Throughout past movements
of my blunted, feather pen,
my mind has been
controlled by frustration.
Pages of depleted reams
litter the cold stone floor
of this uninspiring shed.
Those pins of medals,
never make holes
in my sweat-soaked vest.
No accolades are ever
thrown my way….
as I tried to see life
as a knotted ball of string,
make some sense
of it's untidiness
and unravel
some great victory
in my naive soul.
Now, my face
is as long
as a vet's glove,
leaves me reading words
that simply return
to scratch and bite,
not fitting,
not rhyming,….
not right.
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