All poems the creative work of Miriam E. Miles. All rights reserved.
Ink
I tried once
with a poem
wrote
on the floor,
ink-blot tears
filling my bottle,
sharp nib scratching out dribble.
Thought it was worldly,
turns out was just wordy
pontifications spluttered
around the truth
un-uttered.
un-emerged.
un-recognised.
un-ready.
Un-yielding I prolong the throes
with poem pending yet still
lines aborted –
nothing good enough,
all blabber and bollix,
‘Vomit on Parchment’.
Poet unknown.
Seems fitting.
Eyes
our children are watching us.
responses: recorded
attitudes: notated
reactions: logged
their plumb line, we are
compass and source;
their actions the
ferment of our decisions.
(c)2021 Miriam E. Miles
She
Miriam E. Miles 