Hope

By Diane Binder

It so happens you elude me,
as I strain with cerebral searching,
doubting,
head nodding back and forth
like a bobble-head doll on the dash.

I can sense your withholding:
I know you are there.
Volumes verify,
authors attest,
surely on occasion you rear your head.

It so happens you elude me,
oh thou reason without rhyme.
Misleading,
flirting lyricist,
give me a hint just this one ti-

Cease tempest!
I refuse to surrender
to the folly of Suess!
I plead for a jabbering dactyl…
a logical and grammatical
enjambment?

Here I am at the climax,
character starved of connotation
like a foolish cliché’ scorned.
Alas, there is still hope
that one day,
I will be a poet!

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Categories: Issue 4, Poetry | 1 Comment

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One thought on “Hope

  1. Cork

    I think your bobble-head has found its muse.

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