Letting Go

A moment of madness

Nothing more

When I set you

Down upon paper.

A half-baked idea

Which promised me

So much joy.

Yet now

You rot away

In the purgatory

Of unfinished poems.

Collecting

An ever growing coat

Of digital dust

Upon your folder's jacket.

Know

I should delete you

After the initial euphoria

Had evaporated

Into stale air.

But

A part of me

Defiantly resists

Screaming

"It's murder

Pure and simple".

Only need

To spend more time

Upon you

For completion.

Ignoring

The plain and ugly truth

Staring at me

Directly

In my face.

There is

No salvation

For these poems

Beyond a merciful deletion.

Knowing

A small part of me

Will die

With each expunging

Of this purgatory.

Shedding

A small tear

As each poem is

No more.

Reviews

[DCT ponderings]

I myself have a slew of half written poems piled high. Pages upon pages of phrases needing a home that only seem to sit. This poem was great. It invokes that mother Tiger in me wanting to fight to keep each word believing each one a gem if blended together produces something new. It is the birth process, ultimately giving life to a new creation. So I hold on even when I know I should delete.

[therisa]

Thank you, DCT. I have tried to go back to my older poems in progress, but I have lost the spark, which gave birth to them, in the first place. Sigh.

[De 'Anthony Subban II]

like your word choice

[therisa]

Thank you, De 'Anthony.

[De 'Anthony Subban II]

add me as a friend