MR DREAMING POET

Mr Dreaming Poet

When will your words 

fill the sheets? 

For how long will you idle,

sit by the glazed window at night,

count the tiny twinkling pinpricks of light in the dark sky,

feel all the poetics in the atmosphere and only babble

about your dream?

The thoughts in your mind 

they're mightier than hurricane

yet you're making them lose their power;

you're your own barricade.

I don't want to say, "check your character"

But if there be any difference between dream and reality,

then maybe I will.

The quill and parchments are in disuse;

When will they make love?

When will your thoughts become fruitful?

When will you become a Poet,

Mr Dreaming Poet?