A Poem Like Pony

I remain awake at night And I walk the whole day In the of field of ideas I pick them in abundance Write them like reaping crop Yet nothing comes up as I desire On the page I rub The marks of scratch are everywhere Step of thoughts fall pattering like the leaves Of an old oak tree of the autumn The ground is full and covered fully With words yellow And turning the colour white into black Like a failed crop of winter The pods I get but inside I find no grain I engage to search in the heap I come up with a design And I draw something with intense attention Again the picture appears hazy In no way I am getting the poem For so long I want to bring up The poem I want is like a pony On her back I wish to ride And like an explorer travel the whole world Peaks and bottoms Pits and gorges where Nature has kept her treasure of satisfaction In a box wonder Covered with flabbergasting astonishment Whole night I remain awake Whole day I keep walking for a single poem By which I can ride the coming world like a wise man.