A Bit Rusty
For water to flow the pump must be primed,
in ages past this was well known.
Our modern pipes arrive full-grown,
the pipes may be new but the thoughts are ill-timed
With a bit of grace and a bit of luck,
we blow off the dust and we try,
to write without reason or why,
somehow asking the words to come unstuck.
As the river flows,
the dam breaks free,
quick gushing.
So the inked line grows,
from you to me,
now reading.
written 4/19/21 by Jeff Couch
Note: After writing this I realized I failed to follow the proper rhyme scheme. That is part of the reason it feels so disjointed. I decided to keep it this way anyway. I like the idea behind the poem, even if it is severely broken. I may try my hand at this style again at a later date.
