I was trying as usual to write a poem
And frustrated with it as happens sometimes
When I heard a voice saying , “ Let it not work !
How can the secrets of Life be revealed ?
How can the complex strands of conditioning
Of fresh impulse and of truth and what’s real
Be left to pour out in the ink of her pen ?
Who would believe in Fate and in God
In powers- beyond- us ,the supernatural
And other dimensions than what Man can see
If all were expressed in Poetry ?
Let Powers Unknown on her tongue and her pen
Tie reins and make sure she loses her yen
Let her try simplify
Or rhyme beat time
Or teeter on metre
Or tiptap on rap
The impulse will loosen its grip slowly die
And she’ll say , who cares a fig , not I !
Let rich complex fact her pen elude !
Let everything come out basic and crude !
What would she do ? Invoke intuition
And actually bring a thought to fruition ?
Demystify Soul’s Mystery
Weave a Timeless Tapestry
That cannot be , where shall Spirits flee ?
As the words from her grip fly
Simplify , Sprites , simplify
Simplify complaint to keening
Simplify till nought has meaning
And nothing’s left to signify ! “
Dejected , I write . Then stop .
That’s it . I need no other prop.
Life in all its complexity
Mocks at my plain simplicity .
Come ,Muse,come,and do your best
To fight this out , then go to rest !
Come, Impatience , and do your worst
With shallowness, I am accurst.
( ASA )