I am tired of poetry
Friday, September 29, 2006
Wasted minutes of my life
Spent pressing sweat-sticky fingers
To fevered temples
Prodding ideas better left for dead
Turning these over
Hoping to breathe new life into this desperate attempt at resurrection
Then thinking-
How to make these untrained words
Dance into well-formed patterns,
Step into well-timed rhythms
And work them up to a breathless final ending.
I insist on a crescendo of new meaning!
Why all this suffering?
What I used to appreciate as art
is now just jumbles of words
lost in it's meandering
Wasted minutes of my life
Spent pressing sweat-sticky fingers
To fevered temples
Prodding ideas better left for dead
Turning these over
Hoping to breathe new life into this desperate attempt at resurrection
Then thinking-
How to make these untrained words
Dance into well-formed patterns,
Step into well-timed rhythms
And work them up to a breathless final ending.
I insist on a crescendo of new meaning!
Why all this suffering?
What I used to appreciate as art
is now just jumbles of words
lost in it's meandering
posted by Medusa aka expiringpoet at 12:59 PM
1 Comments:
Its not about filling the comment corner...its about what poetry brings to me..total pleasure to read your poetry even though if you feel tired from writing your poetic thoughts
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