Writing Poetry

By Fred Appelhanz

    Writing Poetry

 

When my mind is amiss

among questions and influences,

my spirit will be dominated

by creativity’s insistence.

 

True emotion will spew forth

with an urgency I cannot ignore.

While words dart about or scream,

my pen feverishly dances.

 

I know not when poems will surface,

a deluge, overwhelming my mind.

Depriving me of sustenance or sleep,

they know I will succumb.

 

My petulant, obtuse muse

will declare stark observations.

In words both ardent and anxious,

I revel in being myself.

 

Poetry is a mistress,

both seductive and demanding.

She declares my inner truth,

in thunderous moments of insight.

 

Ignoring her enchantment,

I would wither inside.

I won’t commit artistic suicide;

I have already tried.

 

Fuel your muse

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