Everyday I fight a poetic battle with myself.
Freedom of thought clashes with the grammar.
Ideas get entangled amidst figures of speech.
Voice is deafened by rhyme, rhythm and meter.
Vivid imagery combats the dictionary of cliché.
Suppressed feelings labor the dearth of vocabulary.
Certain emotions crusade against the language.
It's a 'poetic' spell which I have cast on myself.
Handcuffed by the notion of what a poem is.
I still enjoy watching pigeons eating grain.
I still enjoy squirrel scampering across grass.
I still enjoy making a splash in the puddle.
But no longer shall I crave to put it on the paper.
I am happy to admit...I ain't a poet anymore.
Jay Gandhi
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/not-a-poet-anymore/
