So I have to write a new poem every day for a year. This is day twelve's poem. It's as tough challenge. Can I keep this up for a whole year? Another 353 days? Oh dear God, what have I let myself in for?
What Where When and How
by Steve Cook
Where do you go when inspiration
Misses its connecting flight,
Overshoots your mind’s eye
And ditches in Unreality
Off the bleak shores of Creation?
Whom do you turn to
When the Muse refuses your invitation
Or tells you “wrong number”,
Won’t answer or pretends she’s out
When you call?
What do you do when your ideas
Abscond like truant pets
Gone walkabout, and you watch them
From a distance wandering the
Bleak hills of disillusion
Like stray cats?
How can you stay warm
In the winter of your discontent
When the embers of your own soul
Dim for want of the coals
Of rekindled purpose?
The answers
Are inside you
Written in verse
And set to music
Where do you go when inspiration
Misses its connecting flight,
Overshoots your mind’s eye
And ditches in Unreality
Off the bleak shores of Creation?
Whom do you turn to
When the Muse refuses your invitation
Or tells you “wrong number”,
Won’t answer or pretends she’s out
When you call?
What do you do when your ideas
Abscond like truant pets
Gone walkabout, and you watch them
From a distance wandering the
Bleak hills of disillusion
Like stray cats?
How can you stay warm
In the winter of your discontent
When the embers of your own soul
Dim for want of the coals
Of rekindled purpose?
The answers
Are inside you
Written in verse
And set to music
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