The Leftovers

So often, when inspired,

to the extent I am,

and in truth,

whatever the quality that follows,

I almost only write on an inspiration,

a thought unbidden,

that permeates my mind

until I dispose of it

through pen and ink

or tapping on a keyboard.

But the case of the left overs,

the bits that come in at some point,

but never quite make it to the page,

then nag at me, asking why

they were never given life.

What to do with these?

Reinsert them into the finished work?

Start a new poem?

Collect them into a compilation of sorts?

Ignore them left unborn?

The thing is, my poems,

at least to me,

tend to run on

and often extend past

the one hundred words

I like as a cap.

Yet to reventure back

to the phrases not quite

part of a previous poem

makes me wonder

if I am only being lazy.