The active bard

 
Write your words
scribe so hard
time passing
by the yard
creeping on
mind a dimming screen
 
lost the plot
I trust not
I'm sure I left it there
fog wont clear
till 12 o'clock
 
will you write  
of the surreal
is premonition
part of the deal
carers kindness un-appeal

The big A  
the dreaded D
are they waiting
round the bend
expectantly
 
mind to the poets fast
its our last defense
the battlements  
our rebuke
one finger digit poked