Perspire Ere Ye Get Inspired

And struggling I was from early morn, Before the birds ventured out a singing, Somnolent and tired still the yawning dawn, Over anxious to get some opening, Hoping, hope eternal would deliver My thing duly gift-wrapped in grey silver. But nor came light, nor it killed ignorance, In hope I waited all through restless day, All evening, despairing day when gave way To night that came with same stony silence Which said: what ye look for can sure be out, If rid art thou of a niggling old doubt. Muse inspires, even conceives but can't sire, Man must perspire for apple of desire. ____________________________________________________ Writer's block is quite common to all who write, especially poems. Early dawn's dream gives some opening baits, but not quite. And you await your muse ever since. This sonnet is born from such prenatal pangs. _____________________________________________________ Sonnets | 07.01.05 |