Poem 334 – The Unfinished

The Unfinished

Like flags at half mast
Know this position won’t last
For change comes on steady blows
When the hours fill fast
And grief slips slowly into past
And strength to rise up grows

On darkened mornings in rough sees
The writer learns to know her abilities
And fear takes the plank then does a dive
The words are generous with their pleas
To deliver story lines with structured ease
Then when her hand grips pen she comes alive

So the novel and the poem trust in time
The process of creation is sublime
And the writer sits upon her chair
Unleashes words in prose or rhyme
Embraces imagination’s muck and grime
And faces the unfinished starts with care

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