Poetry of a Poltroon

I cannot let a moment pass
without poetic verse filling in,
in the darkness words are forever coming
and languish meaningless portraits. 

Moments caught on speeding trains
or landscapes of the bleeding rain. 

The type clatters before my eyes
and I lay it down to a grand surmise. 

O-! it frustrates so much of me
that I cannot let a sunrise be
without the little phrases
that describe the transient phases.

What do you think? Criticisms and praise welcome.

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