Where have all my thoughts gone
They’ve left my mind quite blank
Must have gone on holidays
Or they’re holed up in the bank.
I do miss the novel ideas
Re-iterations of the theme
Nothing new is coming to mind
Just loads of dried up Memes
I started writing poetry
Daily from a prompt
And it seems that my ideas
Have somehow gotten swamped
I perhaps should give up the gig
I fear that that is pointless
For when I don’t write any words
It’s like my legs are jointless.
So for me the poems will continue
In some way shape or form
And perhaps, one day
Writing poems will become the norm.