Solitude

MendedFences27

Solitude



Why is it that I cannot write unless I am alone?

Why must the door be closed?

 

Is it because of a fear that the work will be seen too early.?

Can I not trust anyone to be critical?

Or worse, can I not accept compliments?

Is it a selfish need to be first to see the completed form?

 

Maybe, someone else’s presence will disturb the muse, the inspiration?

Or maybe they’d be a distraction, taking attention away from the work?

Or perhaps, outside noise will overcome the voices in my head.

But, why then, can I listen to music as I write?

 

Is it that I’m so insecure that I don’t want anyone to see the process?

Is it that the last thing I want to hear is that I’m not doing it right?

Maybe it’s that I’m more comfortable when it’s me and the muse.

 

I know that it has happened, where an interruption has caused me 

to lose the entire concept of what I was writing. Poof! Gone forever.

Then there’s the dream: The Perfect Poem.

And what if an interruption caused that to be lost?

 

So, for now, I’ll just hide away in the Office / Fortress and try to keep

the interlopers at bay. Hmmm....maybe a drawbridge?

  • Author: MendedFences27 (Offline Offline)
  • Published: August 10th, 2022 13:29
  • Comment from author about the poem: What a twisted life I lead.
  • Category: Humor
  • Views: 36
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Comments +

Comments4

  • Doggerel Dave

    Nothing twisted about doing a Greta Garbo - I have a solid double locked front door to the cupboard wherein I reside....I emerge when I'm ready...
    Good fun, Phil.

    • MendedFences27

      Sounds inviting, but my claustrophobia would ruin it.

    • Goldfinch60

      I too normally write alone but can write with others around. Writing is such an individual way of being in our lives Phil.

      Andy

    • L. B. Mek

      dear Poet, may I recommend
      you look-up
      the working schedule of that great Tennyson
      the one his wife managed for him
      or maybe
      take a look at that elevated desk and vista, setup
      that great Dickens' had
      in his office of wonders..
      see
      because, we
      tinkerers of syllables and ink
      are so far and few
      to find fame and fortune, the world
      makes us believe
      what we do, is effortless and easy
      when
      they themselves couldn't manage
      to pen, a line of poetic sincerity
      and so
      jealously or merely hatefully
      all artistry, is belittled
      as a whole
      with only the minuscule few celebrated
      and all the effort we go through
      to write these works of ours
      are made to feel like, whimsical traits
      when in actuality
      each and every one
      of our so called eccentric traits
      like
      finding a quite place, to call upon
      our muses and inspirations
      are
      the essential tools of our craft!
      (kinda like
      an olympic athlete and that lucky sock...)
      lol

    • MendedFences27

      • MendedFences27

        Thanks LB. Nice to know I'm among the eccentrics.



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