I'm Just Getting Started
I try to be a poet worth his salt
who daily prods his muse, urging it
to offer up a cogent phrase or
heartfelt rhyme, but then instead
I slump in vacuous stupor, devoid
of verse, for hours and hours,
sitting all alone before an
ancient, worn-out, writing desk.
A pen lies still upon its surface—
marred by those who suffered
once to summon hidden masterpiece,
urging its memorable existence.
My page is blank, as I ponder
Shakespeare, Poe, Wordsworth
and Dickinson, among the many
great and silent others.
Who like me, once sat bemused
before an empty sheet. It was then
I realized, that I am just like them!
And I’m just getting started.
September 23, 2019
Copyright © Mark Peterson | Year Posted 2019
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