Thursday 21 March 2013

World Poetry Day

To mark World Poetry Day 2013, here's a wee poem about not being able to write poetry.

© Marion Grace Woolley

Scribbling like a teen
Fervent and frustrated
Pen slipping through my sweaty palm
First efforts all cremated

I bite my lip and mop my brow
I’ve lost my own campaign
There’s just no way of putting it
I frown and start again

My rhymes are cheap and childish
My haikus half as high
My sonnets non-existent
Limericks make me cry

All this verse and reason
Hides the naked truth
I fit words into order
Like pulling out a tooth

I try too hard, I squish them in
Make sure each one has an end-ing
Couplets, pairs, and courting verbs
Nouns, full stops, and drunken slurs

Each dot dot dot, each dash dash dash
Each exclamation, quote and hash
Each ampersand and glottal stop
Each semi-colon, there or not

My thoughts run dry, my tongue is tied
I hide the things I feel inside
Behind a wall of Gothic Script
Arial Wide and Arabic (Traditional)

I bash the keyboard left and right
Change pace at every stanza
Scream my rage into the screen
Slave to (awkward) pentameter

My gifts have all abandoned me
My talents all took flight
Once my fingers drew the sun
Now they beckon night.

Every time I try to pen
The thing I need to say
It withers on the papyrus
Ink muddies up like clay

Inside I feel those wistful winds
That blew through Byron’s mane
Shelley’s tender sentiment
Blake flowing through my brain

A poet I shall never be
But, please, I beg you, pity me
For talents, of them, I have few
To tell the things I wish you knew

Until such time my odes take flight
I’ll burn the oil both day and night
I’ll sweat it out
I’ll scream, I’ll shout
I’ll write until I’m written out.

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