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.
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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)
Comments2
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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