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Failure of a Writer

Failure Of A Writer

Sometimes my mind works faster then my hand,
Causing many of poems to get lost in la la land.
Why do many of my best thoughts come after daylight?
As I fumble for paper and pen in the middle of the night.
It’s a curse I guess, one I know well,
One I have no other choice then to allow.
Before going to bed I try to collect all my thoughts,
But my mind gets all twisted and tied in knots.
After giving up, I try to go rest my eyes,
And after knotting off, they come like a surprise.
Waking me up with these incredible rhymes,
But no matter how I try I can’t capture them in time.
So I guess what I’m really trying to say,
Is that it’s not my fault when my poems go astray.
When the rhyming is weak and the sentences seemed forced,
And the rhyme of the poem goes horribly off course.
Just be assured in my mind it sounded quiet good,
And I’ll stick to that story like any poem would.
Yeah, that’s the ticket; I’ll blame it on that,
It’s not really my fault when my words fall flat.
Who can be expected to wake up on a dime?
Just to jot down masterpieces in a nick of time.
Failure of this writer, I’ll take no blame,
I just use some other alias name.

Copyright © Jeff Morehead | Year Posted 2011

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Carol Sunshine Brown Date: 5/2/2011 8:27:00 AM I enjoyed reading your poetry this morning Jeff. I see the weekend was good to you and helped you find the inspiration to write and share your poetry with us. Love, Carol Login to Reply

James Foulk Date: 5/1/2011 8:35:00 PM i think that all of us poets go through the same thing. what is even worst, is to get an ideal, then not get up out of bed to write it down, saying oh well i am to tired i will do it in the morning, then the ideal goes bye bye and it is gone forever. but what you said at the being of your poem is so true, a great write. thank you for commenting on Voices in the wind. Login to Reply

Zzzzz Zzzzz Date: 5/1/2011 2:59:00 PM Interesting, with more than a touch of humour! I always have pen and paper beside my bed, just in case. Trouble is, most poems that I dream in my head--and manage to scribble down--turn out to be disappointing in the cold light of day. Such is life! Login to Reply