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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
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