It’s Metapoetic


I try to write.

    I cannot write.

I try  to write down   a poem.


The words,    too trite;

  ideas,    so slight;

I question  sometimes

    what I’m doing.


In rhythm and rhyme,

    I concoct a line.

And I try     to keep    the poem going.


It’s metapoetic;

  but ‘still,’    getting tragic.


And it suddenly

  begins   to   slowing.


Still, I give a good fight,

  with all of my might;

then I find,

  that sometimes,

    just like magic,


the Muse,   at the end,

puts the poem   to the pen –

    bemused by my efforts    to write it.


It’s   ‘Meta’ Poetic.





[revised 19 April 2013. MLW]

©2013, Marvin Loyd Welborn


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