Elegy for a Stillborn Pastoral

I have been distraught by my failure to produce a single new poem so far this month, of all months the one during which I should, right?  What vague inspiration I have enjoyed lately has been insufficient for sustained poetic creation.  Until today.  Enjoy, y’all, and please let me know what you think.

Elegy for a Stillborn Pastoral

With heavy heart I heave a sigh
and cry for miscarried inspiration.

On my way to work today,
it struck: a poem about gazing
through my office window,
faithfully reporting all I observed
on the street of my little town
as locals came and went while
feckless spring dithered again
on a cool gray April morning.

Or so I imagined.
Alas, an accident ahead delayed me.
Traffic-halting violent collision
dealt my act of artistic creation
a grievous blow, but I recovered.

Clinging tight to tenuous threads,
I rushed to work, took up my pen,
looked out my window,
put pen to paper–
and scratched an ugly, blotched
blue line when startled by the
ringing phone.  I wrung my hands
and answered then reached once more
with twitching fingers for my
eager pen and got it moving.

I’d just begun to write about Bill,
good-natured bail bondsman,
sauntering up the street smiling,
warmed by thoughts, no doubt,
of last night’s successful rescue
of a distraught runaway teen when

the first of several of my own wayward
charges reported unscheduled and
in dire need of guidance then
the phone rang again.  Consecutive
emails re: URGENT appeared then
the phone rang again.  My wife texted,
a friend dropped in, vexed.  Then
the phone rang again.

At lunch, I picked at cooling hot wings
and fretted as the final feeble wisps
of my poor aborning poem floated off
on bitter currents of black despair,
dying the death of a thousand distractions.

via Daily Prompt: Vague

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33 thoughts on “Elegy for a Stillborn Pastoral

  1. Very good. My favourite lines are one near the top “and cry for miscarried inspiration” and the last line “Dying the death of a thousand distractions” any writer, or someone who aspires to being a writer experiences those, so eloquently encapsulated experiences.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. feckless spring dithered again
    on a cool gray April morning.

    Great lines … original, poetic. Consider losing ‘again’ and ‘cool’ — feckless and dithered show us the weather that day. You may not need gray, even. “Be ruthless with your adjectives: where two, consider one. Where one, consider none.” More comments in my email to you…

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, Sophia. Oh, the stories I could tell. I have several stories posted here that are very loosely based on people I’ve had on my caseload and many more stories to tell. If you’re interested, you can easily find them by clicking my “Categories” dropdown menu in my sidebar and selecting “Short stories>Copperhead County” if you haven’t already read them and have free time.

      Thanks again for being such a faithful follower and commenter!

      Liked by 1 person

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