I have a cup so full that a petal on top
would make it spill all it’s fill!
Everyday I spell with it the word fill.
Only problem is it lacks a bottom!
So I keep trying to fill it to its brim
with sand from life’s hill but it won’t stand still!
In time circumstance pours rhyme
like ebb and tide finding a shore to collide!
Like the endless waves concealing caves
I cave in to passion’s din in a creative inn.
There a quill is senses’ quin made to spin
like a bottle in a battle of wordy rebuttal.
Where a paper is a metronome gilded in chrome
as a medium of communion suspending an ink bullion.
And so my friend you now comprehend
why writing is a track where the end spells lack.
Like a metronome’s pendulum poetry is a medium
that keeps me going down this track and coming back!
Inspired by the Sisyphean Nature of Writing!