In Search of Genius: a Poet's Agony
My search for the perfect last line
can be hellish or something quite divine.
I never end a work of genius with something less,
for if I did I'd never live down the shame, I must confess.
I sometimes shake my head in disbelief
at the dysfunction of my brain when in grief
and consternation. I am besieged by a muddled mind.
And still I search for the elusive ending. The one I cannot find.
And when I believe I have found the solution
I am given a critique by one who gives me absolution.
Be Silent, moron, if your foolish words are merely to placate!
Be gone with your false chatter. There is nothing more that I hate.
An unfinished work of art is a terrible bane,
and the fact is, that thought in not entirely profane.
I've been known to scream phrases of irreverent profanity
while plagued without resolution. I am cursed with near insanity.
All the wrong words keep echoing in my head.
An unfinished poem is by far the worse thing I dread.
I will not sign my name to poetry unless I consider it clever.
I get frustrated while searching for a final line, but give up? Never!
Copyright © Marti Sutherland | Year Posted 2016
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