Tired Poem

This poem is tired.

It has no reason to be so tired

especially since it hasn't

done anything of worth yet.

This poem could use

a drink, or at least

some concrete

imagery. How about

the foaming white

of the waves

at the seaside

as they touch sand?

That's ok. It's not enough

to be tired yet.

In fact, this poem

is still pretty short.

Where is the narrative

or form?

A lumpy sack

of potatoes barely

counts as a form.

This poem is brimming

with untapped

potential. Let's face it-

this'll have to do.