Exceptional Narrative 2 The Poet`s Life : The Poet (Part 2) by Bicpen

Poet's paper pristine and white gleams true; Fumbling an old pen he grasps.  Now begins his masterpiece, a problem occurs; new Sheet addressed and his pen begins again. ~.~ Somehow, he cannot write.  All is called short, Paper still blank not even a full stop. Either he is hot or cold; now he's taught, Why will his page not shine nor tell a rhyme? ~.~ Must I use a chalk or slate to relate; Mystery, must a poet bathe in gin. My sheet whistles like a grave sweet, a mate Of desolate winds, yes, an orphan's grave. ~.~ An incantation's call poet's release, The "muse" awakes and stirs his tortured mind. With poets wry always famine or feast; Hum soft, slowly repeat, then bathe in gin. ~.~ Persevere I will for my laurel rings, For you and I will become poets strong. Inside, words, metaphors, pictures and things; You and I see through poet's paper's eye.   "Poet's incantation: see chapter four ... "   Author Notes Next, the incantation.

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