I tripped on a poem
Of uneven lines.
No rhymes.
The phrases phased
Me, and looking up,
My steps were
Unattended.
That’s when the gravel
Met my hands
And embedded
My palms.
Line breaks
My fall.
Gerald the Writer
Poetry, essay, and prose, oh my!
I tripped on a poem
Of uneven lines.
No rhymes.
The phrases phased
Me, and looking up,
My steps were
Unattended.
That’s when the gravel
Met my hands
And embedded
My palms.
Line breaks
My fall.
Gerald the Writer 
Love the playfulness. Just can’t quite grasp the image.
Whenever I feel compelled to write but the Muse is silent, writing about writing or poetry are the go-to subjects. I read poetry every day and the first run through a poem usually trips me up.
I’m still tripped up. But that’s okay. Life needs mysteries sprinkled here and there.