A Flawed Sestina

I’m trying to force the words out; it is very hard work
I am more the waiting-for-some-inspiration type
A dogged sense of self-discipline eludes me
At least, though, I have the decency to feel guilt
For the hours the I am not writing
For the days spent in unconscious contemplation

I find that after the contemplation
I can make myself pursue some work
I will myself, for a time, to sit at the computer, writing
Madly, frantically I type
Trying to outpace the sense of shame and guilt
That being unproductive so long has caused me

I wonder if there is something wrong with me
This thought invades my contemplation
Almost paralyzing me with guilt
Making it that much harder to do any work
Even of the simplest type
When I know I should be writing

Because part of my soul is in love with writing
Even when doing it is tough for me
Even when I have to force myself to sit and type
After being lost in contemplation
And the forcing out of words doesn’t want to work
Again I am left there, feeling the guilt

I hate the cycle of writing and guilt
I hate the cycle of guilt and writing
Sometimes I’d like to finish just one piece of work
Something that tells the world a little more about me
Something that will inspire them to contemplation
When they read the words I type

When I read these words I type
I can almost overcome the guilt
As I see what has come out of my contemplation
A new piece of writing
Born to the world through me
I am creating a new, if flawed, work

If I produce flawed work, I just continue to type
And let all flow out of me--good-bye shame, good-bye guilt
For if nothing else, I’m writing--which will lead to gentle contemplation

©2008-Art Belliveau