she walked into room lounge bar
she said proclaimed silent him to be
a thinker without wondering what thinker could see?
she said he would be happy to produce one poem a year
really would he be happy to produce a hundred a month?
a dozen two dozen a day even then happy for but a day?
there is an artistic state of mind
which must create create create
or life will grate grate grate?
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
I like, straightaway, the lounge bar setting, and the two characters in dialogue, like reported speech. It makes me ask the question, 'How many poems should I write a week? A month? A year? '
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
" there is an artistic state of mind..." I agree, the state of mind we're in can either make us create an extensive amount of poems or block us. Nice penning.