A Poet In The Making Poem by Valsa George
A Poet In The Making
A diaphanous mist hangs over
Blurring thoughts and fancy
Or is it that my Muses
Have gone into lazy slumber?
Whatever thoughts I have
They come fragmented and scrambled
In no way I can piece them into a string.
On trying to nest them together,
They wheel away like pigeons!
When I struggle for utterance
Like a child, I lisp at the very first word
Sometimes thoughts strike me
Like pellets of rain against the window pane
But fail to broil them
In the crucibles of my imagination
I am a miner searching for a nugget of gold
In tons of drilled out dark mineral ore
In the dead of night, in frightening stillness
I am awake, with pen in my hand
And a heavy weight pulling me down
Caught in a creative maelstrom
I whirl and whirl
Hope the ink will soon spill over
Scrawling coherent lines and letters
Like an emboldened farmer,
I sow the seeds of my thoughts
Into a land barren,
Not fecund enough
And not watered with imagination!
Who can say some of them won't strike root
Even in the cleft of a rock
And struggle bravely into sunshine
Spreading over their sterile birth place
With beauties any eye would love to behold!
I wait for that moment.....!
Yes, I am a poet in the making...
A nice poem. You have nicely described the thoughts of a new poet about giving shapes to his ideas into poems. A good read one. Thanks for sharing.
This is a mental state affecting not only the beginners, but every poet! Thanks for your visit and kind comment!
A poet can sow seeds of thoughts in a barren land and can bring into success without water of imagination. It is seen that seeds in the cleft of a rock strike roots and struggle bravely into sunshine and and bring beauties for their sterile birth place. Sometimes the fragments of thoughts inspire the poet to sting or the birds of thoughts to be settled in one nest together but they wheel away like pigeons. It has been nicely inscribed in this poem that I like most. Let it be quoted..... Whatever thoughts I have They come fragmented and scrambled In no way I can piece them into a string. On trying to nest them together, They wheel away like pigeons! Brilliant poem beautifully crafted and shared.
All of us had gone through this and will again. Problem is; not all can nail it like you! ! looks like some of us are a long way in the making. Thanks Valsa.
Hi again, Valsa! Not sure I had already read it, I read this poem again—and enjoyed it again! May inspiration never fail you! Glen
Even with writer’s block and sentiment of poet in making your poem steals my heart. I had seen this title and meant to read it but I guess never got around it. And if I left the comment (I haven’t checked of course!) and don’t remember the poem, , , , , highly unlikely! Thanks Valsa. Your poetry always brings so much pleasure.
Yes, I am a poet in the making... - The journey continues, the creative process, like life itself, is continuous growth. For the poet writing poetry is an essential and integral part of her intertwined spiritual and physical evolution. A beautiful poem.
That's how poetry comes and that's why poetry is so beautiful. You have nailed it. A huge 10.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/4/2024 11:51:57 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Wonderful poem.. Your ink has spilled in our hearts and mind. You are a great poet.
Thank you Rini....! Glad you liked it!