Poem Of The Day #17

I am not sure how the story goes,
what he or she does,
how he poses or how she clothes.
Only a vague idea grows and grows.

Things good or bad or hectic,
with an unexpected Asian twist.
Relationships possible, and even electric,
but something is lacking--what is it?

Imaginations so aimless,
considerations endless,
plot line pointless,
the bold attempts shameless.

For an O. Henry ending I contrive,
a story like Maugham's I strive,
a Waugh's style may come alive.
Failing all, I might just be myself. 

4 thoughts on “Poem Of The Day #17

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