The Death of Poetry
I’m poet-ed out.
My words, once so deft
at finding me,
now stand chastened
like moon-faced schoolboys
caught truant once again.
They’ve let me down,
skived off when most needed.
They’ve left in a scramble of deafening noise.
I tripple, weary, through mock-landscapes of meaning,
I gush and jargon with the best,
as, achingly, I long for sparseness,
hard-won meander, richness to digress.
Ideal conduct of desire,
harbinger of eloquence,
I snatch at shadows
flitting just outside my vision.
There is no rhyme
there is just reason
in my life and on my page.
Related articles
- The Pit of Poetry (thereadingworkshop.com)
- Poetry Questions (poetrycurator.wordpress.com)
Absolutely brilliant, you have a wicked way with words!
Oh yes, been there… beautifully put. I hope reason flies and rhyme returns to bless your words again.
What a lovely wish – thank you so much for reading and for sharing that with me.
Gorgeous, punchy rhythm. Loved it!
Thanks, Britt, I’ve been thinking a lot about internal rhythms and almost-rhymes lately.
Marina Sofia – What a powerful way to express that feeling of simply being out of words. Beautifully done!
Could you tell that the corporate jargon was starting to drain me?
Oh, yes!
Just fabulous! We have all known this feeling….so many brilliant lines…”I snatch at shadows flitting just outside my vision”….so frustrating! But obviously this piece shows you are definitely not “poeted-out”.!
So kind of you to say that, I really appreciate it! The best words, the best meanings always somehow evade me. But that’s what keeps us going, isn’t it?
As noisily as they scrambled away, they will return. Wait.
You are always so encouraging, bless you! Luckily, I’ve just been on a poetry workshop today and came back tired, but full of inspiration.
Wonderful word play, love: ‘I gush and jargon with the best, / as, achingly, I long for sparseness’
What can I say – story of my life, Polly! Thank you for your great support, as always.