Thursday, May 30, 2013

A Poet's Bad Day

It flows around me
Forcing its restless energy into me
Words seek to climb
This helix vine from swampy mess of mind
To blossom in some chancing rhyme
Instead word-buds shrivel on the stalk
And slouch away in disarray

I’m left to grapple
And wrestle into structured verse
Restless tentacles of words
That slip and slide and disappear
Into the muddy mess of mind
Laughing at my struggle to translate
The ineffable

And from this grey quagmire
Fear in slimy dress does rise
In teasing leer at my predicament
She chokes my confidence
Lisping her sweet temptations
Why bother, your scribbling’s to transcribe
Who cares if they are read?

So I take a breath
And steady my doubting soul
I remind myself I write, because I write
And with that thought I’ll face
My fear and discontent
I’ll put it into rhyme
And write it down.

I’ve wrestled into structured verse
These disappearing buds of words
I’ve managed rhymes
Of seven lines
The ineffable will have to wait
It’s beauty to translate
I’ve done the best I can

Tomorrow is another day
Perhaps my thoughts will rise above
The muddy mess of my mind
And skip along with beat and rhyme
And fear will have released her grip
The beauty of the unspeakable

Transcribed into words

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