Trials and tribulations,
Haunt my poetry pen.
That spectre of confusion,
Is back yet again.
A great idea birthed,
A poem began to form.
A poet in full flow,
A wise truth to inform.
Then hell in a handbasket,
So revealed its ugly face.
The words began to slow,
And rhymes I had to chase.
My imagination seized wholly,
My poem's temporarily on ice.
Pick up the pieces tomorrow,
Tonight, just pay the price.
Some of us can relate to this wonderful write. How frustrating when we are on our way weaving a poem and the mind will not cooperate in the end leaving a half baked work of art. But there is always tomorrow and I hope our thoughts will not fly like birds leaving their destination. Liked this poem.So beautifully expressed and crafted. Five Stars! ! !
I think we've all experienced that frustrating feeling. The poetry course I'm currently studying encourages us to make numerous drafts of a poem before perfecting it. The main poem for my final assignment is now on to its sixth draft stage. I've now changed the form from blank verse to free verse. It has taken me weeks to get there but yoiu know what I think it will be worth it in the end. It's definitely a frustrating, but ever hopeful five from me!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Just keep working at it Shaun, I'm sure you'll get there in the end! I love the opening lines, ' Trials and tribulations/ Haunt my poetry pen.'...marvellous. It's' a composing poetry can be incredibly frustrating at times' inspired five from me.