DESERT OF MY MIND
At the moment my mind is all void and desolate,
Like some arid unproductive scorching desert,
No gentle rain thoughts falling to fertilize and feed,
No spark of imagination upon which I can sow a seed.
Three days and still my desert mind yields no fair,
No hidden messages can I conjure up from anywhere,
What factor is missing in this busy mind I once had?
Hundreds of thoughts tumbling so I was always glad.
Languid lies my mind in a state of cold emptiness,
A thing I am not used to, a feeling that I must confess
Is not pleasant to me it’s like a cancerous part within,
How can I help the thoughts return, this battle win?
I come now begging, pleading for visions to return
And so words flow to my mind, some comfort earn,
For there is peace in writing that can fill you with joy
As you use the talents given you and energy employ.
I’ll sit with fingers poised over the keyboard today
And that inspiration will soon come along my way,
A poem of love or nature or feelings of any kind,
Anything that will wash away the desert in my mind.
(Millicent) Ann Margetson 15 November 2005