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Poem

Hiya,  Bin doodling some  lines over the 
last few weeks, decided to post to see if 
anyone shares my way of thinking .


       Notes to Self on Poetry Writing 

                On the beginning
Is easy as the first line hit’s the page
Then comes the falters of the language rage
Inspired in a flash then blunts the brain  
That blots the copy, leaves a filthy stain
How maddening, this crazy convolute
Contrived to keep all fixed and absolute

               On the desire
For drama free, add, ad nauseam
No good was ever written by the glum
Nor happy hearts whom on fair wind would sail
Is needed more, to face uncertain gale
The chopping of the heart, the soul left bare
Live life and then return, with truth to share

                On content
Oh yes be sure, unburden of that load
That weighs so heavy going down life’s road
Take care to leave no mystery unturned
Written well, then pleasure you have earned
Be Narcissus, Venus, maybe even Thor
But  for PS sake, never be a bore      

                  On ending
Confetti words strewn like varnished rain
Be set in place, the hordes  to entertain
By chance alone, one mortal you may reach
That has not read a very similar speech
Then as the final dash and dot, be penned
Be wondering, do I write or I pretend      

              On reviews
Would Poe, his patience short, be long remain?
No doubt, of me would slate and scream disdain
Or Shakespeare, even in his lightest mood
Describe my efforts as, criminally crude
And Pope, be sitting there with shaking head
His thought, I write this comment but with dread

Hahaha, much like you are now I expect.

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