Birth of Creation

Something tugs at my mind

It tugs at my soul

It starts as a pulsing, urging, annoyance

Gentley at first, but as it gains strength

It begins to rip and tear

It brings agony and pain until I am able to give in

I sit down and touch my fingers to the keys

And it takes over

It begins ripping its way out in bloody, painful way

Tearing my mind asunder this with mental contractions

It is both horrific and breath taking, Violent and beautiful

It consumes all that I am as it rips itself free

When it is done there is sweet relief

And I behold the bloody spawn to which I have given birth

As the gore is wiped away by careful editing

I become its first reader

Reviews

[Marie]

Well, I get the annoyance part, because it happens to me. Not the pain and blood.

But this is a remarkable poem; the birth anology is very good.

[Mark Best]

The blood and gore are metaphores for the mistakes made along through a first draft.