-- The Blank Page --
by John Herlihy
The emptiness of a blank page
Patiently waiting to be filled
A bet with oneself waged
Can this restless heart be stilled
A poem about to come alive
As an old man sits in an armchair
Into fathomless depths to dive
Lost in the sanctity of a prayer
Random thoughts in a maze
Seeking their proper conduit
Into one’s tender heart to gaze
To witness the burn of sunset
Who can fathom true intention
As we seek, ever hoping to find
In the broad expanse of imagination
A few thoughtful words kind
Word by word scribbled down
Upon the blank page laid bare
Newly born with fuzzy down
Not an excess word to spare
A whimper, groan, smile, frown
Offered to the reader as gift
Burnt offerings with little renown
Only the lonely heart to uplift
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Copyright ©John Herlihy
Friday 16 February 2024
“There's an epigram tacked to my office bulletin board, pinched from a magazine -- "Wanting to meet an author because you like his work is like wanting to meet a duck because you like pâté.” (Margaret Atwood)
Rebecca
Love ya!
Jane