Agony of a Poet

A poet sits,
pen in hand.
As the paper waits.

Torn by the rhythm
and the rhyme.
So to the dictionary.
For some inspiration.

Assistance to create
new words.,
Such frustration.

Tormented by technology,
as it fails to respond.
To be put right.

Anger and fire.
A passion burns.
Ignited into flames.

As you read,
more words, creep in
between the lines.
Making it able.

You come to a stop,.ugh!
It only takes one word.
But, it has to be the right word.
So it can flow,
to gain momentum.

The sighs and woe's.
Putting pen to paper.
Facing this foe,
I must not waiver

Lost in thought.
he reads again.
The lines of his poem.

A cup of coffee
to inspire.
Fingers to the keyboard,
start to write.

The thinking process.
A shot in the dark.
He looks, he looks,
but turns back
to the open page.
from the start.

Will I, won't I?
questions, as he ponders.
Over his every
slaved word.

He has something to say.
To be heard by all.
The creative spark,
To make it's mark.

He stares into
the page written.
A change here,
A change there,
But, something is missing?

So he reads it
over and over.
His mind racing.
If only.
he can discover.
The phrase,
the right pacing.

So he reads again
Clutching words,
out of thin air.
Words leap into his mind.
Will they be fair?

The thinker he is,
chin rests on hand,
elbow on knee.
A true picture of
The Original Thinker.

So lost in thought
his mind races.
For the right phrase
To take shape.
Each word is,
in its right place.

The agony,
of being a poet.