A Poetic Disaster
I’m a poet, allegedly,
Though my rhymes fight me steadily.
I light a candle, sip some tea,
And scroll for memes religiously.
I once wrote “pain” twelve times in ink,
Then spilled my drink, oh a poetic kink.
I called it A Flood of Inner Grief,
The judges called it comic relief.
I seek deep truths, I chase the muse.
She ghosts me like last week’s news.
My metaphors are bold. Profound.
Except the ones that flop and drown.
I pen my soul in tortured lines,
Then post at half-past stupid times.
Three likes. No comments. Just my mum.
She writes, You’re weird, but love you, hon.
So here I stand, a poet true,
Confused, amused, and broke in two.
But hey, I’ll keep on spilling ink…
It’s cheaper than a shrink, I think.
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
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Comments (3)
"o here I stand, a poet true, Confused, amused, and broke in two. But hey, I’ll keep on spilling ink… It’s cheaper than a shrink, I think." If for other reason I guess that is a good one. I am always impressed by hoe many poems you punch out each day; you are a poetry factory. Hats off to you. 😉😉
Excellent words, I tend to stick with formats but sometime sit can be so difficult to find the right words. You did though, excellent words
Very interesting poem and well written