Some days it sucks
To be a poet
To have words
Softly banging
In your head
Clouding your sight
With visions
Of things pictured
Or perceived deep
Within your brain
Incomprehensible
And duplicitous
Swirling and straining
To chain
Into verse or prose
The Goddesses of words
Unasked and uninvited
Laboring in your mind
Squatted down and
Birthing broken strings
Of words
That linked correctly can
Make them demi- gods
Half God
And
Half lyric
Spelling out the Iliad
Perhaps…
But you are left
Walking through the day
In a daze
Quietly tasting words
As they flood
Into your mouth
And onto your lips
From the jumbled maze
Inside your brain
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem