This Sullen Craft Poem by Martin Patrick McCarthy

Ay me! Why does Poesy wish me to draft;
To wilfully engage in this sullen craft?
Ill-begotten I am, dull is my pen
For it has no power to wound the hearts of men.
All that which I summon forth is smart
Since my Muse is kindled only by flame of heart.
What fool seeks to embrace my pain?
Only a lunatic would wish his pain upon himself again.

Hark, the Page! The Page is always here,
Always caring and ready to hear.
So I unleash my feelings of pain upon the Page
Hoping that the words will, that rabid emotion cage.
So I seize my pen, and this pain I share
Because Page, O noble Page, I know thee will care!

(15 August 1994)