My poetry's a passing phase.
Dumb dreaming on deluded days,
when I (misguided by some muse,
who lies, and tells me, “you can’t lose”)
pour out my passion on the page,
unleash it from its gilded cage.
As if I were another Keats,
enthroned with rhyme’s elect elites.
But I've been duped, like naive child,
by beauty blinded and beguiled.
And when I wake one misty morn,
I’ll read my lines and sneer, then yawn.
Yes, poetry’s a passing phase,
a remnant of that youthful haze
that to my ageing heart still clings,
like songbird, that no longer sings.
-
Author:
Blue-eyed Bolla (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: September 17th, 2023 10:50
- Comment from author about the poem: How I feel at the end of my poetic road
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 6
Offline)
Comments3
Yo write really lovely, really pouring your heart out on the page so beautifully.
I hope this isn’t the end of your poetic road, it can be your vent, your release and your making.
Thank you, Maxine. Just one of those days. I'm sure I'll keep composing. Thanks for your encouragement.
Definitely keep at it.
Those days can be the most suffocating, composing helps you and it helps others that can relate to your sentimental words.
To having better days
1 more comment
You have been around this place (MPS) a long time - your work here always appreciated. Don't give up now.. please.
The highs and Lows of poetic life. Thank you for your encouragement.
Good words Kevin, I do hope it is not the end of your poetic road.
Andy
Thank you, Andy, for your encouragement. I'm sure that I'll keep right on composing.
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