Has this parlance of the pen

become babble I am unable to amend

is it now -- no more than simple scratching

the sound of the dog at the door

will it please only the hen

scratching for corn upon the floor

never, no never before

has the yield been so utterly poor

the soul of my pen

even after a proper period of penace

has not the creativity of a stone

it is known to me

that the paper has not conspired

to pursue the banishment

of suitable renderings

that which guides the pen

in paths fluid or errant

there, yes I say there

lies the root of the malady

not more than one strand

of intelligible verbiage it is able to deploy

wretched imagination -- baked too long

by  years 'neath the sun?

` ~ /.,{}*^#

there, at last

it has defeated me