Hail, poets! Raise your glasses
For I'd like to make a toast
To thoughts that dissipated
With the sunrise, like a ghost.
Here's to all those moving words
That might have brought renown!
Those words that stirred the poet,
But were never written down.
Exciting words that thrilled you
In the middle of the night,
When there's not a pen or piece
Of paper anywhere in sight!
And you lack the motivation
To quit the comfy bed
To store them some place safe away.
...You close your eyes instead.
Consigned to misty memory
Until the bright new dawn,
When they have vanished with the night,
And all your words have gone!
They've gone to join ten million words
Of others and became
Elusive words that stole away,
And never brought you fame!
This one really grabbed me as I can relate. I wake sometimes in the middle of the night and have to get up to write down a stanza or phrase or idea. When I do fall back to sleep I hate myself for not getting up as you said, it's gone. Great flow and rhyme, original content.
When in bed....for some reason...without fail.....I rise to put in writing every poetic thought that crosses my mind. Just a quirk I suppose.
Oh so true! This happens to me all the time. I have a thought and then it is gone.. Brilliant piece..
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is so so true. The frustration of it all. You said it perfectly.