Poet’s Quandry

If
I were
to write
every day
for one
hundred days,
would my soul
be purged of
this malaise;
is it a thing
to be dredged,
dragged up –
twisted
and tied
like tattered
bed sheets
knotted
together;
is there
a remedy
for this
scourge;
or is this
an inherent
restlessness,
a fiery blue
spark of eternal
angst igniting
passion – a call
to write?

(Originally posted February, 2017. Image my own)

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VJ

Permission to write, paint, and imagine are the gifts I gave myself when chronic illness hit - a fair exchange: being for doing. Relevance is an attitude. Humour essential.

25 thoughts on “Poet’s Quandry”

  1. I’m afflicted with the same impulse, VJ: nary a day goes by ….. I see it as a blessing ; to be a creative is a wonderful talent — and the dark and angsty are still valid artistic moods: they are all part of the rainbow of feelings we humans are exposed to —-

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