I wait for a poetic sounding line

I wait for a poetic sounding line;
A nimble phrase, perhaps a touch obscure.
Could be a complex Poundian design,
Or else a simple Frostian contour.

I wait and wait, but nothing comes to mind.
Could it be I have nothing left to write?
In desperation I attempt to find
Anything that will end this poetic plight.

I search the Cantos hoping for a spark
Of inspiration. It's a fruitless quest.
To North of Boston do I then embark,
But finding nothing must stop for a rest.

Sometimes it doesn't help to be direct.
The lines often come when you least expect.

"Write what you know," the writing teacher said

"Write what you know," the writing teacher said.
"But, what if you know nothing?" I inquired.
So she replied, "Then write of that instead."
And with those words this poem she inspired.

It's true I don't know much of anything;
No profound thoughts live in my simple brain.
With cultivated words I cannot sing--
My intellect is uncommonly plain.

I've sat in classes trying to abate
This nagging issue of my ignorance.
But with deep theories I cannot relate.
I'd rather romp in nature's opulence.

There is a truth beyond what one can know
That only comes from watching Nature's show.

What is true genius? A heavenly gift?

What is true genius? A heavenly gift?
A priceless boon bestowed by sacred powers?
Or is it something one can learn to lift
With furrowed brow and toiling many hours?

It's neither. It's a malicious disease
Infecting those who've discovered their art.
With crushing blows it brings them to their knees,
Threatening to rip their minds apart.

It destroyed Nietzsche, and also Van Gogh;
Incapable they were to keep its jaws
At bay. It then began to take control
And gaping madness soon gave them no pause.

Accursed am I with this insanity;
But, unlike them, I will make it serve me.

Eternal Recurrance

Caught in this circle for eternity.
It seems that we have been here once before.
I do not wish to read this anymore
And see the same old words repeatedly.
What if we were to try and jump out now,
Would the poet take this on the chin?
Is it possible we have reached the top?
If so, I wish that here we make a stop.
Alas, too late, we've gone back down again.
I'm getting dizzy, this I cannot allow,
To speak the same old words redundantly.
This poet, what an insufferable boor!
How many times is this? Who's keeping score?
No worse fate can befall one than to be

Long after I am dead and gone away

Long after I am dead and gone away,
Returned to this good earth from whence I came
--A fate that everyone will face someday
(Be rich or poor, we all end up the same);

Long after the last word has been discussed
And there are no more secrets to conceal;
Long after this book has turned into dust
And there is nothing more one can reveal;

Long after the last sentence has been spoken,
Long after the last story has been spun,
Long after the last promise has been broken,
Long after the last setting of the sun;

My poems in their vain immortality
Will continue to live on, long after me.

Would you be my imaginary friend

Would you be my imaginary friend
And agree to talk to me every day?
I have no one on whom I can depend;
All my other friends have run away.

I don't know why they're so afraid of me.
Do I seem so repulsive to your eyes?
They said I am a monstrosity.
Oh, please tell me that it's a pack of lies.

Why must they be so cruel and unkind,
To torture one who's never caused them pain?
Now I am in my loneliness confined
And feel that I'm about to go insane.

You're the only friend I can call my own.
Please stay, I'm so afraid to be alone.

You, Hypnus, like your brother promise peace

You, Hypnus, like your brother promise peace,
A respite from the troubles of the day.
Enveloping us in a downy fleece,
You take us to a land where we would stay.

But stay we can't for soon we must arise
To greet Helios in his fiery splendor.
He watches over us with blazing eyes,
Which trees and plants, all living things, engender.

But as soon as he finishes his ride
And returns at night to his golden home,
We long for you to return to our side,
That we may in your quiet country roam.

O Hypnus, grant us your all-soothing sleep
And we'll forever your name holy keep.