The Creative Process

Now, some people tell me that writing is easy.
Well, what do they know of the thoughts in my brain?
While some of them help me, some others are queasy,
And some of them are just too hard to explain.

When it comes to a poem, the heart of the matter,
It rests on a subject I cannot foresee.
“Too much of the former, not enough of the latter”
Seems to be the one thing on which I can’t agree.

The time that it takes me to think of my verses
Could fill a whole day if I’m not very wise.
And if I’m not mindful, my talent disperses,
And my head is left bare as my intellect dies.

I’ve combed my whole bookshelf for ideas and notions,
As I try to recapture my creative spark.
But alas! Nothing comes, and it flares my emotions,
And the Apathy Demon has left its cruel mark.

The whole writing process is something that’s cherished.
At least, that’s for me, although others may say
That they don’t understand why my insight has perished,
Or the reason behind my own thoughts of dismay.

So many an hour I think I’ve expended,
Battling the boredom and indolent views.
And each time I do, my malaise is extended,
And it bids me to quit, but of course, I refuse.

But then, inspiration! A flash of that fire
Breaks down the dark boundaries I’ve had in my mind.
It lights up the places for which I require
To unleash my thoughts from the place they’re confined.

So faster and faster, my thoughts are outpouring.
They’re journeying down from my head to my hand.
I’m writing them down as my soul is restoring,
Putting my talent once again in command.

A poem is forming from under the mire.
I hope that who reads will like it, somehow.
But of course, I am sure that before I retire,
They’ll smile with mirth…for they’re reading it now.