Sonnet Upon Creative Process
I wish that I could write a catchy song,
To play without a stiffened hand and mind,
To sing melodiously of right and wrong
While leaving somber, gloomy thoughts behind.
I’d weave and prune and form a garland strong
In fragrant flowers of remembrance and awe.
This awe so bright will light my eyes, prolong
Into artistic forms from what I saw,
And overflow with worlds of paper breath
Which by a holy force will breathe new life
Into some midnight soul. Not by my breath.
Yet many eyes will see a leaflet rife
With my old scrawls, belying light mystique
Within its words: an empire fantastique.