When One Is Poetically Possessed
When one is poetically possessed,
Nothing like the truest rest:
For every braved forty winks
Whacks for new poems and resistance sinks!
One is very free to weep
But one isn’t snatching any sleep:
One’s Poetic Tormentors, a zillion number,
Obsessed with The Ecstatic no less The Sombre!.
You’re hailing your tormentors but with reluctance,
This act dragging to a crushing distance;
At God’s feet dropping respectful grudges,
Not as forgivable as sexual urges …
Only God Himself knows when it shall end,
For those spirits aren’t ready to bend;
When one is poetically possessed,
Sleep becomes one’s rarest guest.
Copyright © Chinedum Ekwobi | Year Posted 2021
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment