My Head

My head is 'whirring', A poem is 'stirring', Inside my mind Which is resigned To producing nothing Except some 'cussing'. My head is 'clanging', A poem is 'hanging', In mid-air somewhere, And Oh, I do care To get it out. Without a doubt! My head is 'lifting', A poem is 'shifting' About, and ready To come out steady, And with some luck, Will not get 'stuck'! My head is 'clearing', A poem is 'nearing' Completion now, And now somehow, I feel a conclusion Is no longer an 'illusion'. My head is 'delighting' A poem is in 'writing', Clearly written, And now I am 'smitten' With composing again. Can I be 'SANE'! . © Ernestine Northover