Last night I wrestled with poetry
As if a lion wrestling with its prey
I sleep poetry
I dream poetry
I walk poetry on thin line ropes
binding together steeply slopes
I make love to poetry like a new catch
On heat waiting to be let loose from its latch
So out of ten if I am bad, take a pen
And give me a score of five or a four
I constantly make love to poetry
With dramatic grammatical metaphors
The root of my poetic hunger
Is I starve myself a bit longer
In sleep I twiddle my poetic lines
Sharpen them to be as fine as a riddle
I sleep poetry
I drink poetry
Not just to quench my thirst
But to differentiate amongst
Good, Better and Best
There shall come the day
I have to say
When I will definitely call it a truce
When I have run out of poetic juice
2006 - Sylvia Chidi
I totally relate to this Sylvia! I think poetry is on my mind 24 hrs of the day! (My family can attest to this....I drive them crazy!) I loved this poem. Sincerely, Mary
What is wrong with people around here. Don't they know a 10 when they read it? May your poetic juice flow on and on Sylvia. 10 from Tai
You running out of 'poetic juice', Sylvi? Yeah right! This is a romp, Sylv, and with its 'dramatic grammatical metaphors', verse 4 steals the show. Comic, entertaining and clever writing. Regards, Gina.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Sylvia Your poem is wonderful It was worth reading it You write so well