One day

Perhaps one day my verses will spring

from the clear, fresh waters of joy

But all I've got now is a murky,

polluted creek bed

Downstream from the suffering of 

factory-farmed cows

Whose waste is poison.

The mud rising first above my ankles.

sucking my boots in until I can no

longer lift my feet.

And then it is too late.

Arms glued to my sides

Pressure a pain in my strained chest

Sludge closing my ears, eyes,

silencing my voice,

slowing down my brain

I know that I possess the strength in

my muscles to pull myself

from the mud, but

The motivation does not come.

My mind is a blank

Without a single reason for dragging

myself out from under this weight.

Maybe one day I'll evolve to

breathe in the sludge

But for now I surrender.

Reviews

[kentuck14]

Interesting how sometimes we find ourselves in "sludge" but have no way of knowing how to rid
ourselves of murky writing. No "trash" here, Lizard, just an honest attempt to explore and understand yourself and your art. I see an attempt to identify where the sludge is coming from using the analogy of a factory farm (more prevalent than ever.) The suffering cows (to me) are a stand-in for your own frustration with your work . . . your seeming inability to get at what you really want to say. Every writer goes through this at times. The problem (to me, again) is we think our words must be perfect in all possible ways. It's what I would call the "long loneliness." (I've been thinking of this lately and hope to put it in a poem sometime soon.) Keep writing whatever you think and feel . . . read other poets (extensively), hear their stories . . . Yes, continue your journal. I can't count the number of my poems that have come out of a journal. This poem gave us much to ponder. Thanks.
Tom

[Chris Shaw]

I hate to see animals suffer. As I have grown older, the welfare of animals has become far more important to me, The pets we have had as a family make me understand more that animals do have emotions, so I get angry and upset at their ill treatment. It is much easier to write about stuff which causes pain. I started to reflect on poetry I have written and came to that conclusion. Writing about it is cathartic though. Your poem took me to many places. I liked that.

Chris

[jacob erin-cilberto]

two things are working in this piece...the mistreatment of animals we use for food...and the idea that writing about the bad things, the pain, the nastiness of life is so much easier for poets to do...even though it might take a lot out of us, from our hearts and souls...writing happy is just so difficult...
"surrender to the sludge"
we all seem to.
hard hitting work.

j.