Dumbstruck

William Haskins

poet
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This I speak true
through rage and sorrow:
here was a day that
had no tomorrow.

The poet who lives
inside my head
ignores me mostly,
passes me ghostly,
cold and without
comfort in the
maelstrom of my mind.

And this is why
I could not find
the words with
which to tell
what swells my heart
and quickens me
madly to my fate—

Now it is too late.
 

Stew21

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oh my god. if this isn't an indictment on my ability to create a poem lately I don't know what is.

You've done an amazing thing with this in that I relate immediately, but the form of the poem actually speeds the read to the proper pace for the ending.
As usual, you made form suit your purpose.
It resonates because it's something we all know, but you say it in a way that we all know that we know it.
Fantastic poem, William.