My Artistic Intent

My artistic intent kept me up all night without relent,

I wanted to paint you a monet or a turner

But art was never my strong point

And being a slow learner

I painted a tiny flower instead

My artistic intent drew me to a small corner cafe

With a seat for one

Even after a sleepingless night

This stubborn muse wasn't done

Instead half dead I sat for hours

With a noteook and pen

Re writing the same sentence

Over and over again

I told the waitress it was my first draft

Her english was poor and so closing the door

She laughed, ''Do you feel warmer now? '

At closing time I left two sentences better off

Than before!

My artistic intent fired me on without relent

I wanted to compose an epic or

A poem of some great worth

But after a certain hour I lost the power

Forgot to feed the metre and in the dark

Couldn't complete her!

At dawn

I walked all forlorn

Through the streets

With heavy heart and feet

I was no artist

Just an insomniac

Who lost the power of speech

I was hungry and stopped for a peach

And ate an apple and pear

And did my shopping and went home to sleep

Half comatosed I arose

That's when I composed

My new world symphony in one key,

After much praise and applause

And feeling confused

I pointed to my 'muse'

It's him you should thank, not me!

emily water melon bronte

poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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