My First Attempt at Ars Poetica

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Inspiration all around
Raining down from up above
Words saturating my flesh
Stanzas seeping through my skin

My eyes see all her beauty
My ears teased by her sweet rhyme
The universe controls me
This is her poem, not mine

Revelations fill my mouth
I swallow every drop
Gorge myself on metaphors
The first draft writes itself

I exhale. I am happy.
I feel nurtured. I feel love.
But when I pause to read it
All I think is “what the fuck?”

Suddenly my eyes spy every error
My nerve endings feel each flaw
Stomach aches in imperfection
Now I need to fix them all

Revisions race right through me
Broken cadence destroys my soul
Vile verses course through my veins
Evil images explode

My organs all malfunction
Now I’m sweating rhythmically
My heart beats broken rhythms
Brain obsesses. I can’t breathe.

I need to fix this poem.
If I fail I know I’ll die.
Reconsidering verses
And my calling in life, too

Oh onomatopoeia!

My mind is a thesaurus
Poisoned by hyperbole
One too many similes
All this grotesque imagery

I cry for each cut stanza
I mourn all my dying words
As I read each one out loud
The whole poem sounds absurd

But then my muse takes over
It was right there all along
Inspiration’s returning
As I churn out my new song

Poetic epiphany!
God has not forsaken me
Words start flowing magically
And now I’m born again.

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