Lights, camera, poetry!

Let’s the party started!

1…

2…

3!

It all started on the beginning

from the first syllable to the last dot.

Sometimes things aren’t working as they should,

another rumpled paper and again, bad mood.

Your Muse is laughing from her corner:

“Stand up,

scream at me for a bit longer.

I will get closer

so I can kick ya,

as we Muse always do.

But maybe I will caress you better.

Because, you know,

poems can’t be written by standing on your legs

and kicking to ass can be a little ouchie.”

Let’s return to the start,

to the very first of lines.

There’s the beginning of all…

…of the first and last poem, ballad, or a prayer.

The scene has been prepared

for a poor poet.

The poem is at its finish

and it’s time to raise a voice.

To let them know:

About all of its efforts, pain and suffering.

All of its injustice in making progress.

All of its fails.

The poem is at its end,

and poet as well.

The curtain fell

and no one gets a hurt.

The poem made it,

as well as poet- magician of the words.

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