I am at a low ebb <br />And little poetry flows from my nib <br />Even when I read others verse <br />Inside I have a dull response <br />At one time “in the zone” <br />Now I feel that I alone <br />Have lost the muses magic tune <br />That flowed through my veins <br />And into verse with rhymes sublime <br />That even as I cursed I knew that <br />She, this muse would lift up my spirits <br />Let fly with raptures of deft feelings <br />Long lost to mankind’s sensibilities <br />And rekindled in her fire <br />Of words so inspired that <br />Tears came to eyes long since dry <br />And now I am at a low ebb <br />I wait lonely for a high tide <br />To launch anew what only muses do <br />A storm of rained words <br />That at once drive and drizzle <br />With a softness that <br />not even stony hearts can repel.<br /><br />David Taylor<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/waiting-for-the-tide/
