After that unexpected dive into mixed poetryâ€"here I am, back where I’m most comfortable, with meaningless and contrived rhymes. Nevertheless, I like this oneâ€"if you choose to come back and read you’d probably find a continuation within a few months. Hmm… I strongly suspect that this was my muse’s way of reminding me not to get too smug! No, I am NOT implying that I am the muses’ select, I am simply finding a comparison and contrast. â€"Please- don’t get me wrong.

Dedicated to all writers big and small, and Corine who helped me along with her super-spastic remarks! =P


Never-ending Practice

Never-ending practice

An everlasting fight

Against the ravages of time

To get the words all right.

Never-ending practice

Of styling different ways

Of choosing and discovering

All the things to say.

Never-ending practice

Of writing words with flair

Of putting them togetherâ€"

Then rewriting them with care.

Never-ending practice

Of agony so bare

Of ideas disappearing

And watching stories tear.

And never-ending practice

Of swallowing the hurt

Of rejection oh-so-cold

Of critics cool and curt.

Oh, never-ending practice

Of wishes coming true

Of magic- real occurring

And bolts out of the blue.

Yes never-ending practice

Of inspiration-bright

Of dancing muses calling

Of scaling greater heights.

Never-ending practice

Yes, practice makes perfect

Even for those who are so lucky

As to be the muse’s select.