The Divine Afflatus

The Divine Afflatus

Ye lads, I hereby declare that it was very like a swoon
and as unlike common reverie as would a spaniel
‘gainst a hen both be judged poultry. Furthermore,
were it not that I pricked my thumb unto blood
in the reaching for the quill in its pot, surely
I would have fainted dead before a word.

But such as ye read went down, black upon white,
forewarning, cognizance, and derivation to the four winds.
Yea, as it were, effusions, entirely absent of plan
and so far ahead of pen that I ran to keep pace,
fell out just as ye see here, crumpled before ye.
Thus, stumbling headlong I managed a mere scribbling
as Calliope (for she threw her name behind her)
advanced, and in fact, vanished, as it were.

And so, let us raise our tankards my fellows,
in a toast to those who understand my verse.
And ye others, complain not to me, but thirst,
and blame ye the gods.

© Ciprianowords Inc. 2006