Life of a poet

Looking for an inspiration yet again 

for the umpteenth time, 

Wondering what will be my muse 

for this particular rhyme. 

I find it sometimes, hidden between cracks, 

under the shelf or in an old book. 

In every line, in every word, I put my heart and soul;

even if my reader doesn't find it worthy of a

second look. 

Because that is the life of a poet.

Staring at the same seemingly inanimate 

object for an inordinately long time, 

Wondering what will be my muse 

for this particular rhyme. 

Agonizing over every tiny detail is half the fun,

As I let the similes and metaphors run.

Oh, I know I could never hold a candle to the 

likes of Frost or Shakespeare, 

And trust me, I don't dare to compare. 

But I do write, and I write day and night 

as it's the curse of being a poet, 

Of looking at simple everyday things and 

having a million thoughts,

Pouring in my mind every second of the day 

and forcing me to pick the pen up and write. 

That is, my dear, the life of a poet. 

 __________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

Written By - Rupnit Kaur