… fail


I cannot capture it

The way it truly feels

The words exist but

I cannot master them


It is a thought-form

A symbol

Pure sensation

All at once


How can a poet of such limited skills

Ever hope to encapsulate

In even the tiniest of ways

The all of the thing?


Metaphor won’t do

Innuendo demeans us all

And symbolism demands a far, far surer hand than mine



It is hopeless

Though I feel it with the intensity of iron in the forge

These embered coals

Are too hot for my third-rate poetry to hold


I step away from the page

Humbled by that thing which I adore the most

Perhaps tomorrow

I’ll corner my prey


Perhaps not.








4 thoughts on “Epic…

  1. This is how I feel while writing my poetries too but in the end I say to myself, oh well I have to start somewhere if I want to become better. You did a really great job here! – Michelle

    Liked by 1 person

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