My Diary Is Blank

The sun rotates it spokes

To signify a new day.

To me it appears the same,

No different

From all those that came before.

I am merely applying daily coats

Of white paint to a perfectly

Featureless past.

It remains monochrome

And utterly blank,

A study of the banal and inane.

The masterpiece I leave

As a memento of myself

Will be a blank sheet of paper.

Reviews

[FJ Davis]

Well, Ben, if you can get people to believe those last three lines, you'll be remembered all over the place.
Your diary is yet to be written, young poet.
Fascinating piece.