A writer without a pen is like a horse with no hair. 
Naked, ashamed and buried in a pit of self loathing and despair.
Words are only words, perhaps says you.

A juxtapose, what does this mean?
A place, scene or object with contrasting effects.
Am I juxtaposed? A brazen fall of color spilled cross brash dull hues.

If I could only be so lucky.
Misplaced still, with my roots bunched up in my palms 
like the hem of a dress.
I let one side slip from my grasp with a gasp!

Immediately, it is buried in a cascade of rotted soil 
and it's plummeting - thirsty, soaking up two week
old rain drops and gasping for more, more please.

Thirsty. Always this unquenchable appetite for 
what destructs me, revives me and leaves me parched in its wake.

Thirsty. Until I stir to life once more to seek such
nourishment before the sun has had the chance
to kiss the  tops of trees.


Guide that inspired this poem: 




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