Arlene Corwin writes

A Poet’s Rationalisation

She writes daytime and night.

Se’s neither stamina nor habit.

It’s because I’m lazy.

When she’s complimented (as she’s been at times)

The only word that has occurred’s: tenacity.

Reading, seeing reportages, message hitting the right the spot,

And lo, she’s hot!

Computer open, blank page there

And she am where she ought to be,

Comfy, lazy, some ability

Wakened for the sake of… 

Nothing!

Prolific - she’s aware of it.

Gazillion ideas make her sit.

And when she sits and pushed to write

She writes because it’s what

She’s pushed to from within, without,

Stimulation like a clout from heaven -

Happy as sandboy,

Seventh heaven’s brand new toy,

Theory, philosophy, hypothesis,

This, her only explanation

For the many thousand extant stanzas

Published and unpublished 

With no purpose whatsoever.

Thank you to whomever

Pays a tribute or has praised

Or lauded and applauded reveries;

The fantasies that intellect can cover.

What more can one ask for?

 

[I have neither habit nor stamina - at least not consciously. It’s more out of laziness. I see, hear or read a phrase or reportage and I’m off! That’s it! And  because repetition creates habit, be it smoking, biting your nails, or practicing quilting - then if you have a particular talent, well, there it is - the automatic stamina and habit.]