I am a poet (am I?)
I metamorphose reality
searching for an identity.
I stare at empty spaces
want to fill them with words.
Words they have an existence
they entangle my hair
waking me up at night
enticing me with new feelings
and obsolete memories.
Furtively I grab a pen
in need of some paper,
discarded envelopes
are my favourites,
I write a few lines
words gushing through
my fingertips.
It is time to travel
along this trail of ink
unsure about the destination.
I have to be quick any
interruption could dissipate
my tedious inspiration.
This is the beginning, then
I will type it on my machine,
where words take liberties,
changing shapes colours
like mischievous chameleons.
Eventually in front of me
well framed a new piece
(of my tortuous soul),
I can post it for others
to decide of its destiny.
Naively I want to believe
that I have finished with it
but I’ll be back for a twitch,
some grammar points may be
and the line breaks
should be perfect.
Somehow it is like a child
one has reared patiently,
that leaves the nest.
I feel helpless, I want to shout
He you! Come here!
you are mine... mine... mine...!
One last time
I dive deeper
through the lines
is this what I meant?
Life now seems shapeless,
tasteless, I feel restless
my coffee is cold, bitter
out of distraction
I forgot the sugar.
Should I set for
some more introspection?
A new gestation
being only
a temporary solution…
************
A contest entry
- How Do You Write? by strangerforeigner.
450 points, ended February 22, 2008, 20 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
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This is really good! You share so vividly with us your experience of writing, it's almost like I'm there with you. I completely know the feeling of looking at a blank sheet of paper and absolutely lusting to fill it.
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Thank you ever so much for the nice comment and the silver
I am so pleased you enjoyed this write directly from the heart and that you could relate to it. 
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"It is time to travel
along this trail of ink
unsure about the destination."
...yes, indeed, I, too, feel that writing poetry is a giving of birth. -
everyone can relate to ur poem and i swear ur an awesome poet am so speechless i cant say more all i can say is that i loved every amazing word u wrote n welcome back
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Excellent! This is exactly what I do so I can relate so well to your poem!My tea is always going cold as well! I love this. It's so like me!
Wonderful imagery
All the best in this contest for a fine poet and friend
Gaylene
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