And the words jar
They slam into the wall
They veer left out of control
I overhear the clutter
But I don’t see them fall
They lie in a mess on the ground
A mixed up jumble of letters
A litany of characters
That no longer form a sound
I wonder what I said
As they lie strewn on the grass
Did it make any sense
As it popped into my head
Did I write it down all wrong?
Its a poets bad dream
When the words form oddly
And they just don’t end up
Quite how they seem
I am tempted to walk away
I look at the mess
Littering is an offence
All the signs say
Blowing down the street
My unformed words
A thought I had
But somehow couldn’t keep
Maybe the wind
Will suck them up into the sky
They will then find a better place
A better person
Fall on another poet passing by
A Tuesday Latte 