I feel it’s been a while since I’ve written a quality poem,
Something to make me smile and feel pleased,
Proud of myself for something sharp and sweet,
Or lengthy but with purpose and a sense of growth and speed.
There was a time when I researched and read,
Many books of poetry I had immersed myself in,
Inspiration, a powerful thread,
But now, these books are silently laying,
Gathering cobwebs, it seems,
Until of them, my heart will once again be calling.
It was difficult to create when I felt the pressure
To delve into many other’s styles,
Why couldn’t I write in my own style,
Without having to research?
Of course, a writer is a reader, too,
A poet reads other poets.
But the time had come when I grew tired of it,
I needed a break, in order to keep on going,
To continue my art,
My twisting, turning words,
But then that break became longer and longer,
Until proudly, obnoxiously, it became incredibly self-assured.
This Break knew that it would be ongoing,
Something without end unless I gained the motivation to,
Once more, become back in the habit,
And I will try perhaps, one of these days,
To pick up my favourite poets and read their masterpieces,
Because of two reasons:
I enjoy them, and, they will assist my understanding and feelings,
Emotions to project through my words that can taunt, tease, or please.
So, this poem,
Where I bemoan,
Is not so much any more of that,
I had assumed I would complain,
Here are the workings of the frame,
I simply detail, detail, detail,
And my words,
In the future,
Become less of an excuse and frail,
I will pen something worthier onto my page.
© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay
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