Once more, I rewrite
a line of poetry
from one of the great poets
as one would meticulously retrace
the outlines of an image.

The placement of each period,
the choice of a particular word,
if one of these were amiss,
it would be all for naught,
but my!
How each word, each line
supports the other,
what beauty!

Ha!

What beauty indeed!
The more I know,
the more it burns
like celluloid!
Fuelling anguish in my heart!
And oh dear!
What a jealous heart I have!
Surely, others must feel the same.
Is it so hard to discern beauty?
Can we not read?
Yet why is it so elusive to recreate something
even a fraction as eloquent?
Do we not spectate the same Earth?
Such mockery!
To recognize such and be unable to recapitulate it!
All things of significance
have already been written.
All else is imitation!
And how much more it aches to know
that I am a cheap one at that!

At least just once in my life,
could I not write just one line
equal to this?
I do not ask for much.
Just one line!
Then I could proudly brandish
whatever mediocrity I amount to,
like a brand burnt into my flesh.

I have envy
for the flower.
It blooms quietly,
blind to the world.

If only I could
emulate the flower.

They fingerpick on the guitar
while I toe pick on the ice;
my equipment doesn't fit as well
as each note in each composition they write.
After building brick walls in front of the net
their slapbass slapshots destroy my defenses
until their goals plague my crease.

While trying to set focus on my own game
loud cheering emits from various venues
for Mozart writing his first symphony at 6
Orson Welles directing Citizen Kane at 25
Johnny Depp originating that last line at 31
and Patrick Mahomes, whom I'm older than.

Competition is healthy, functional
until the unstable heat of boiling envy
releases the steam of resentment
building pressure in the machinery
until the screws pop out like marbles
knocking each other out of bounds.

Daftly defining ego as the self
and success as superiority
and achievement as relative,
I race against relatives;
each pace they gain
is a slap in the face in the rain
stinging while slipping while
blaming the elements
precipitating my demise.

Gripping graphite too tightly
vulcanized rubber goes wide
shattering through plexiglass
and into the rib cage
of an innocent bystander
dropping his concessions
to climb the stairs to the sky box
while I wait for repairs to be made.

her hair shines like the sea glimmering in the sun
flawless, radiant skin with a beaming smile
her eyes are like a trap, once you're reeled in all you can do is stare in awe
how i wish i could be her

boys treat her with respect, that's for sure
effortlessly gorgeous they say, even when she wakes up in the morning
she's the girl who everyone stops to stare at
how i wish i could be her

i see the way they talk about her
the respect and humility they have whenever they're in her presence
especially the way he looks at her, for some reason i envy
how i wish i could be her

she calls herself ugly
but i never will understand why
she's perfect in every way
oh how i wish i could be her

Might your eyes see me,
they will not shout,
"BEAUTY!"

A pearl encased in a grotesque shell.
An unknown beauty.

I wish to emulate
the chirping bird
who sings freely
amongst its peers.

Too often
I am caught up
in which words to say
or the placement
of a line.

Seldom
do I actually write
what I had felt.