As a Poet

I’ve struggled with this poem for hours
For days
For months
Looking for ways to express my powers
As a poet.

Yet here I sit with nothing to show
Nothing to say
Nothing to remember
Or forget, no thought to bestow
As a poet.

I’ve sat along the seashore, intent
While looking,
While searching
An intrinsic core of life, content
As a poet.

Yet still I hear relentless surf
Ancient in motion,
Ancient in carving
Coastal cliffs shear, reclaiming turf
As a poet.

I write some verse, that’s true,
Sometimes it works,
Sometimes it won’t,
With thoughts terse to construe
As a poet.

In my thought I wander alone,
Whether empty,
Whether full,
Words caught in fragile seeds sown
As a poet.

I leave behind, perhaps, a feel
Of sandbox fun,
Of frivolity
To remind the Muse to reveal
As a poet.