Contested Meta Poem
In front of a blank page, I sit with my pen,
Writing a poem for a contest again.
With thoughts in a tangle, I ponder and fret,
“What metaphor fits?” but none come to me yet.
I gaze at my cat, dear Sami by name,
Her eyes hold a mystery, yet nothing to claim.
“Could she be my muse?” I wonder aloud,
But my page remains blank as a lion is proud.
My room is disheveled, my thoughts just the same.
Chaos surrounds me, and I feel such shame.
The words that I seek, they elude my grasp,
In the silence, I hear my own desperate gasp.
Perhaps this contest is not meant for me,
I’m tangled in words that I struggle to see.
But here with my pen and my faithful cat's stare,
I’ll find my own way, through this poet’s despair.
I write of this struggle, this quest for a line,
In hopes that my efforts will somehow align.
My poetry’s nothing if perfection’s my goal
Here I am flawed with a true poet’s soul.
Copyright © Irene Hammer | Year Posted 2024
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment