WISPS OF IDEAS
I just have wisps of ideas floating in my head,
Almost a mind block that most writers dread,
Illusive , yet taunting me in a haunting way
I hope the wisps go before the end of the day.
A subject evades me yet these vague ideas are there
Stimulating my mind, but as yet I am unaware
Of the real thing, I know I have to write a poem about
Is it Nature? Is it love? Or about living without doubt
At home where all is quiet the ideas may flow free,
Write some epic poem that will bring joy and serenity,
The low lying clouds speak silently of rain or cold snow,
No wonder bright ideas right now don’t want to flow.
Will the wisps turn into thick fog or deep, dense smoke,
Or will sparks of inspiration be revelled from under this cloak
That at present engulfs me, that makes me want to fret.
But before much longer the right words I will surely get.
(Millicent) Ann Margetson 27 October 2005