I’d like to try my hand at poetry;
make the words drip onto the page
from the awkward pen
in my crabby left hand.
Fractured rhythm, stuttering rhyme,
iambic meter, vodka with lime.
How does one start?
Does one wait for a burst?
Is it an insane thirst?
Or does one have to plot and scheme,
a Machiavellian dream.
First the idea, the sketch,
then the torrent.
Or does one just write
and polish off later, at leisure?
Word by word, line by line,
verse by verse, rhyme by rhyme.
Luis Dias, 2346 hrs, 1/04/2009