My Poetry Blues


My Poetry Blues


has put on hues
of a strange range
of thinking.
As I drink
the fine wine, the words begin
to do an ink dance
of romance that I did not choose.
            sing, sing, my poetry blues
leap from sleep so smooth onto
the page so new.
I begin to groove to your new song that
belonged only to my heartbeat’s throng
            sing sing my poetry blues
twirl within my world’s blank moves
bring me the remedy of my malady
to release me from my abstract cues
            sing sing my poetry blues
convince me to know, the pen, the paper
the poet,
my blood boils and toils to know it,
to grow it,
to raise the bow, aim it and let it go
            sing sing my poetry blues
bring me notes of hope, send me a consonant blend
begin bending the ink to my every whim. Sing.