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.