Today's prompt is to have a look at The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows, pick a word and write a poem from it. Some great words/sorrows to choose from, but, I had to go with what I'm feeling as of late, when my poetic muse is missing - ENNUI!
Ennui
'The worst thing that being an artist could do to you would be that it would make you slightly unhappy constantly.' - J.D. Salinger
Deflated, dejected
I stumble-stagger,
sleepwalk through days;
cloud-cover complete.
World gone flat,
like a drink that has lost
its effervescence. Stale,
weary, definitely unsweet.
This is what it feels like (or not)
on no poem days;
existential bleariness
a blank slate of 'mehs.'
Small things depressing,
infinite shades of grey,
pedantic bottom lines,
quotidian delays.
Inspiration buried
in cynicism's concrete.
A wildflower garden of ideas
slabbed like a grave.
Mercurial, melancholic,
like those French mime artists
with a teardrop
painted on their cheeks.
Nihilist, pessimist, (and all the rest).
I am in mourning
for my joie de vivre,
ennui got my tongue.
All the world is quiet.
All the din is within.
Give me my rainbow colours!
Epiphanies, exigencies!
My spring heart grieves;
I wear winter on my sleeve.
This fallow field of feeling
the artist must supersede.
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