Inspiration

I drink myself
into a bottle
of Irish Whiskey 
and swim in
drunken ideas that
pass out and 
wake up on my
page the next day
with a hangover.
“How did we get 
here?!!” they ask. 
I look down at
my page full of ideas.
They cross their arms,
I cross my arms,
they frown at me,
I frown at them, 
“Who finished all the damn whiskey?!!”
Copyright © | Year Posted 2011

Poem

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Amadore Avatar
December 7, 2011 at 9:09 PM
Although the cliched vision of the drunken poet may still have some appeal, your talent needs no such crutch...I have always particularly enjoyed Robert Frost's opening lines in "To Earthward"...."Love at the lips was touch as sweet as I could bear; once that seemed too much -- I lived on air that crossed me from sweet things, the smell of -- was it musk -- from hidden downhill springs at dusk...." Your facility with words and ideas are impressive.
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