Phil W. Bayles

Or: How I Learned That A Poem A Day Keeps The Writer’s Block Away

We toiled for years
to lift that smug, sneering stone face
up to meet the gods.

We brought it back down
to our level
in a matter of hours.

I couldn’t read the words
written on the pedestal
between those shattered legs.

When someone told me what they said,
I laughed out loud
for the first time in forty years.

We are the mighty ones now.
Soon, nothing else will remain of the King of Kings.
Will he despair, I wonder, when he looks upon our works?

I did warn you I might write more poetry.

If you want someone to blame for this, blame my friend Harley. She’s an incredible writer, and for the last six months, she’s been cheering me on from the sidelines and reminding me why I write.

She’s been writing some superb poetry based on random words, and we decided it would be a fun thing to do as a pair to keep each other motivated.

I don’t know if I’ll share all of the poems, but I’ll share the ones I’m particularly pleased with.

Today’s word was “topple.” It made me think of “Ozymandias”, and Saddam Hussein’s statue being brought down in Baghdad.