Notes To Self On Poetry Writing

Hiya, Bin doodling some lines over the last few weeks, decided to post to see if anyone shares my way of thinking . Notes to Self on Poetry Writing On the beginning Is easy as the first line hit’s the page Then comes the falters of the language rage Inspired in a flash then blunts the brain That blots the copy, leaves a filthy stain How maddening, this crazy convolute Contrived to keep all fixed and absolute On the desire For drama free, add, ad nauseam No good was ever written by the glum Nor happy hearts whom on fair wind would sail Is needed more, to face uncertain gale The chopping of the heart, the soul left bare Live life and then return, with truth to share On content Oh yes be sure, unburden of that load That weighs so heavy going down life’s road Take care to leave no mystery unturned Written well, then pleasure you have earned Be Narcissus, Venus, maybe even Thor But for PS sake, never be a bore On ending Confetti words strewn like varnished rain Be set in place, the hordes to entertain By chance alone, one mortal you may reach That has not read a very similar speech Then as the final dash and dot, be penned Be wondering, do I write or I pretend On reviews Would Poe, his patience short, be long remain? No doubt, of me would slate and scream disdain Or Shakespeare, even in his lightest mood Describe my efforts as, criminally crude And Pope, be sitting there with shaking head His thought, I write this comment but with dread Hahaha, much like you are now I expect.