My head is 'whirring',
A poem is 'stirring',
Inside my mind
Which is resigned
To producing nothing
Except some 'cussing'.
My head is 'clanging',
A poem is 'hanging',
In mid-air somewhere,
And Oh, I do care
To get it out.
Without a doubt!
My head is 'lifting',
A poem is 'shifting'
About, and ready
To come out steady,
And with some luck,
Will not get 'stuck'!
My head is 'clearing',
A poem is 'nearing'
Completion now,
And now somehow,
I feel a conclusion
Is no longer an 'illusion'.
My head is 'delighting'
A poem is in 'writing',
Clearly written,
And now I am 'smitten'
With composing again.
Can I be 'SANE'! .
© Ernestine Northover
This sounds like the various stages of a birth and its possible complications. Nicely done, sound very real. Best H
I don't know if there is anything more insane than writing poetry, but you describe it well.
I've been here so many times Ernestine, I can never settle until I've finished a poem. Great write. Love, Andrew xx
I know nothing about child-birth, but this sounds like a poem-birth. Exquisite style. Ten. A favourite.
Nice one Ernestine know that 'Whirring' feeling especially after a few Glenlivets.Sid John xx
Dear Ernestine Yet another piece of inspiration to aspire to. Many Thanks Hope You Don't Mind If I Use Idea For Next One. Much Love Duncan
This is so true when writing or even trying to write....nice!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Well, I can't answer the 'Sane' part but........you're a wonderful poet. Sincerely, Mary