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Open Poetry #50
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The Ode to Lost Inspiration
| Open Poetry #50 |
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The Ode to Lost Inspiration |
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Gunslinger Senior Member
since 1999-10-09
Posts 901TX, USA 
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Sitting in a Starbucks on a rainy winter night- Half-drunk cup of coffee, and a strong desire to write. It seems that I lost something, a long, long time ago… I used to be a poet, and the words just seemed to flow, But now I’m like the runner, who’s running short of breath- Just when he needs his second wind, he finds there’s nothing left. Where did all the words go? What happened to the dream? Like a train upon an uphill grade, I’m running short of steam. I lost my inspiration, I cannot tell you where it went- People told me I was gifted, that my words were heaven-sent, Those words are long departed, there is nothing left to tell- For a man who lives for writing, that’s a special kind of hell. So where can someone go from here? What is a man to do? I guess I’ll put my pen away, leave writing up to you. I will load up my old pick-up truck, and pack my old guitar- I may look for inspiration, or I may wish upon a star… I may go to digging ditches, or maybe drill for oil- And try to drown my foolish dreams, in the sweat of honest toil. |
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OwlSA Member Rara Avis
since 2005-11-07
Posts 9347Durban, South Africa |
For the writer with dreams that you are, I would say, don’t look for inspiration, but wish upon a star and inspiration will find you when it’s ready. And your dreams aren’t foolish! |
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Gunslinger Senior Member
since 1999-10-09
Posts 901TX, USA |
Thank you, Milady, I trust you are right. |
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Michael
Moderator
Member Rara Avis
since 1999-08-13
Posts 7666California |
Been there. You express the feeling of no inspiration well. Toiling your life away can even help you sleep...sometimes.  |
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