Thursday, 18 April 2013

Post 18: This Poet's Come Undone

Been searching for my favourite pencil. Getting a little tired. Here's something light and cheesy.

NaPoWriMo 2013


I love poetry 
I adore prose
But I am a little tired
Of how long this goes
My prose is no longer wired
This idea of writing 
on demand
It used to be 
a lot more fun
I guess it's not 
as easy as it looks
I guess it could
fill a book
I have written again
just to play on 
and also maybe
to move things along

Perhaps the truth is this
Since I write for catharsis
Writing 30 poems in 30 days
To let people
review my rhythm
Tis really a shock
to the system
How does my poetry sound
Do I only write 
a few stanzas or a round
Never mind 
if it is scintillating or cheeky
What happens
if it all looks dreary?
Stream 
of consciousness within
Stream 
of prose 
and pentameter without
Writing that has 
got to stop
Suddenly I don't feel
That this prose 
is worth a lot

I just added 
an instagram button 
To this blog 
Help! Help!
Who am I kidding 
I am in control of this hack
In 12 days I could even  
wipe it all and go black
Do I just continue to write
What flashes in my mind?
If it all gets too much to find
You can find me hiding 
on a break from writing 
Curled up in a corner 
reading Atlas Shrugged
Should I hit the Publish button? 

Ho hum fee fie fo fum 
this poet's 
come undone

-Anne The Obscure



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