A MUSE, IMMOVABLE
(A Sad Poem by Bernarde)


The Bald Cook smirks.

He keeps my Muse Bound and Captive.

He will free it
upon receipt of Payment Overdue.

I Ponder, with Regret, those Imbibed Cups of Espresso!
-their Dry'd Remains flaking on the Table-Top!
-their Darker Parts dissolving the Bile in my Stomach!
-their Wretched Swirl, for now Unavailable!

I will not produce Anything of Worth, this week.

Ah, Gloom....




DUSTY REMAINS
(by Bernarde, The Sad Poet)

1.
I Aspire.
I Perspire.
I shed a Large Tear for All of Humanity.

I write a Short Blot on the Table-Top.
It was a Poem.

2.
Why is my Angst
the Hard Currency of my Inspiration?

Why am I Sadden'd
by the Thrice-Stained Towel
that the Bald Cook keeps in his Possession?

3.
I drown my Sighs
in the Bottom of my Coffee-Cup.

They Harden and Dry.

The Bald Cook will have to scrape them out..
The Dusty Remains of my Unwritten Poems.



___________________________________________________________________

GLOOM
(by Bernarde, The Sad Poet)


I am in
the Bottom
of my Coffee-Pot.
 
My Poems,
half-dissolv'd
in the fetid Bile of my Inspiration.
 
The Bald Cook
is the Object
of my Trepidition.
 
I have no Means to pay for my Espresso today.
 
Ah...Gloom....

-Bernarde