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When A Poet Feels A Break Is Needed

O at the times I swore to drop this pen,
rejoin the multitudes of normal men.
Those sleepless nights, this old writing hand ached,
from sweat and tears, true poet can not fake.
Times when being stalled gave me heaving fits
and dark dream writing came from hellish pits.
O the words I have splashed forth and cursed
the rewrites and sad edits I have nursed.

Why not abandon poet's heavy heart
go back before this addiction did start.
Turn to the light and life begin anew,
hold out for better and receive my due.
Walk into meadows, bright flowered and green
look to the future as a bright eyed teen.
Stare into the heavens on moonlit nights
see and refuse to ink the starry lights.

If my soul can decide to turn away,
renounce this addiction on that fine day.
Race into new life and as wordless man,
give ink and paper an eternal ban.
Learn to live without this deep blessed curse
rest in my solitude and feel no worse.
Should that day come and my mind so abide
I'll forever, my inner thoughts thus hide.

Robert J. Lindley
Feb. 22nd 2017

Note- Started on the date shown, but finished today. A poem fragment I had misplaced when writing in deepest agony and heartache, after my mother's death. Found again this afternoon in an old poetry book.

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