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The Three Stages of Creation
It’s true art, resolved at last.
It exudes such elegance, so
Many elements, yet holding
Steadfast. The composition of
It all makes me regret
The scolding I gave myself
Not but a day past. Although it
Does appear in the contrast a tad
Too heavy. And now that I get a real
Look at it, why did I cram all
Of this there? Where is the restraint?
This portion here is taxing the
Rest of the image like a levy.
The canvas was preferable
Before I even laid a finger near.
All that did was go and taint it.
Come here you! I have a mind
To snap you clean in two!
Oh lord, how much time was
Frittered and spent, only for it now
To slouch over the grime-ridden,
Filthy ground like a tent.
For the rest of days, I’ll stumble
The streets in a battered malaise, and…
Halt, doth my eyes deceive me, or
Is there something spectacular within sight?
I ought to get started on it lest
I lose grasp of the marvel meant for
Me alone to conjure up and complete.
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Funny poem that explores the self-doubt riddling creators everywhere.