The fecundity of my mind,
Nowhere can I find.
Writing has become a chore,
Poems that were not bore,
Now I have to drill a hole,
Or take a hard fall.
To force some words of cohesion.
That do not sound of frustration.
The mill of life grinds my brain,
I think I have mental sprain.
Coz words that flowed like a river,
I had poems in my quiver.
Are now dwindling and is a dry stream,
I just want to eat ice cream.
To cool a boiling brain in my head.
A brain very hardworking and well fed.
To get my mind's fecundity,
I need your solidarity.
Just let me sleep in peace.
And give me wine and cheese.