Unfinished Poem

(This is a poem I wrote years back. I couldn't find the inspiration to write a new one. I figured I would just post an older one. I pray you enjoy it.)


Her pen lingers on an empty page.
Her thoughts wandering to a new scheme.
Should she write about life?
Should she write about love?
Or should she write about the unseen?

Not knowing which of these to pick.
Her thoughts falling to the unknown.
Why does she have this curiosity?
Searching for answers that cannot be known.
Why can she not write like all the others?

How does she write about life?
If she has not lived it?
How can she write about love?
If she has never felt it?
How can she write about the unseen?
When even the scholars do not know?

Should she write a playful poem?
No, too jolly.
A sad and tragic poem?
Too dramatic.
A tale about love?
Then again, what does she know?
Oh! The life of a poet.
Trying to conjure up what no one has.
It is all so un-befitting.

Ah! The inspiration for a poem has come.
Why did she not think of this sooner?
A child could have thought of it.
It took her this whole poem.
To think of such a simple answer.

She should write from her heart.
Now wouldn’t that be a great start?


Copyright 2010 Lauren Hall ©