Sonnet #45
The poet does not write and read, non-plussed,
for mere applause. His rhythms and his notes
might give you pause: for him it’s true relief.
Approval's not the cause, nor the end
of his efforts. He writes because he must:
an unformed phrase, a clause not spoken
is like an Albatross that gives him grief,
until he edits out its flaws and sends
it to a waiting world of laws and dust.
He draws the strength from deep within: a lust
that gnaws his soul and never grants respite,
nor takes flight, nor withdraws to sleep at night.
No comments:
Post a Comment