"Artistic temperament sometimes seems a battle ground, a dark angel of destruction and a bright angel of creativity wrestling." Madeliene L'Engle (1918-2007)
THE BATTLING POET
Sometimes I wish I could
Bask in the simplicity of it all
Ride the gentle winds, I would
Instead of tumbling down a waterfall
Then inside my head it comes
I become trapped in it once again
The whirlwind of creative eloquence
Will carry me off to way back when
I think in terms of flowers growing
Tides and mountaintops
The images my mind keeps showing
Never seems to stop
A poet's mind is never idle
I close my eyes and words appear
It seems that I'm incapable
Of competing with the likes of old Shakespeare
But then again I find my way
Amid the fantasy to which I'm entitled
In the words and rhymes I have my say
Not harnessed in, a steed unbridled
In my world the angels dance
Beasts are slain and left to die
Folk are caught up in true romance
And it never matters how and why
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