I feel like I am a parchment
That was colored in colors of gray.
I feel like I am a drop of ink,
That is being wiped way.
I feel like I being erased
Frorm a pur and snowy white canvas.
I feel like I am being redrawn
With charcoal on a dark black surface.
I feel like shades of black and blue,
On a picture painted white.
I feel like a portrait of a weathered tree,
On a bleak and dreary night.
I feel like a brush that's been
stained and worthless
And can be used no more.
I know that when all is said and done,
I am a poet with nothing to say,
Whose words were scribbled down on
the paper of life,
All balled up and then thrown away.

Laura Phillips

Site Copyright: Jeanne Curran and Susan R. Takata and Individual Authors, April 2003.
"Fair use" encouraged.