The idea seizes.
I fly to pen
These whispers burning deep within,
To scribe these thoughts of dawn-like fire
(That I can never fully hear,
Yet feel them like a deep-lodged spear)
Oh, the fascination they inspire!
Each contour: untouched mystery,
In this idea given to me.
The daylight wanes, spills into night.
Brown shadows jig with lantern light . . .
And still I war. I watch in awe
As all my tangled mind unfolds.
With majesty, confusion molds
To figures sunlight never saw-
Yet they must be more real than sight.
They love and laugh and cry–and fight.
I strive to capture them, but they
With steely brows have seized their way.
Careening wild inside my mind,
They tease my hands, unearth fool’s gold.
I hunt them, yet their trails unfold
A thousand roads . . . I lag behind,
Groping for just one memory
Of all their force and dignity.
The dark wanes, spills to morning light.
I, weary-eyed, still grapple spite,
Still pound these shadows to frail reprise
Of what they were when they were born;
And all that I attempt, I scorn
Into crumpled balls of compromise,
Of rambling words and hackneyed might–
Oh, when shall I begin to write
Well said! And your use of iambic tetrameter is commendable!
Thank you very much! So glad you enjoyed!
Oh my…I’ve been there so many times late at night, trying to capture fleeting thoughts and pin them down with a pen on paper before going to bed! Sometimes I’ll wind up groping around in three different projects, unable to write anything worthy of keeping the next day! It can be a true nightmare trying to figure what it was that set me on the writer’s vigil to begin with! You capture the frustrating mood of the great-paper-jam-in-the-brain so well, putting into words that seething frustration with twist of wry humor to boot! Question: Was this the end result of a mental-paper-jam finally unblocked? 😉
I like this poem. It reflects a lot of what I feel when it comes to the struggle to write. Was it a struggle to write it though? That would seem weirdly apt..