Waiting

Waiting for a poem to arrive, 
to at least get started,
is something you must learn to do
if you’re ever to become a poet.

It isn’t easy. 

Poems are ultimately a gift
that requires waiting
and also a lot of work; 
they are often as much a curse 
as they are a blessing.

So what to do?

Of course, you wait…  
and, while waiting, you tend to scribble, 
scribble then erase what is dribble
while in hope awaiting
a birth that you hope will come.

Sometimes, it’s true: 
a poetic egg slides down the awaiting tube
to join with inspired sperm
to activate that womb
where poems are destined to develop.

Then comes the birthing!  
And there is joy all around until it’s noticed 
something’s amiss:
the poem is definitely not breathing.
Its skin is blue!

So what to do? 

Apply artificial aspiration until it’s clear
the poem is not destined to breathe.
So begin anew,
perhaps with a sigh of relief,
in faith
to await inspiration.

That’s what poets do.