Poet Obsessed
By heinzs
Poet Obsessed What compulsion drives me? Wherefrom comes this obsession? I am unable to wrest my attention from the all-consuming page for more than a few moments at a time. Blank lines become black holes drawing me hither - draining the depths of my soul. It all spews forth in profusion - disguised as words hidden in ever-changing forms. Emotions vie for equal time - none satisfied to be relegated to a shorter line. Jealously they grab for space - like the hungry at a feast where there is not enough for all. Never sated, ever ravenous - my mental ink soaks deep into the absorbent sheets. I fear the drying of the well. Even now moments of indecision plague my fecund palate. "Take a break!" Says who? I break only for sleep or food or other life necessities. Every waking span consumed by agitated fervor until once again tapping on the keys. What is inspiration's price? Would we roll the cosmic dice - take a chance on romance, or will the poem itself suffice? 4/8/2002 Written April 8th, 2002 © on Apr 08 2002 09:01 AM PST, Heinz Scheuenstuhl 10 • 0
AI analysis available. Enable JavaScript to interact.
About this line
"Poet Obsessed..."