The Cycle of Poetry

First I'm idea-less
Can't find the words
Second I'm inspired
Ideas just occur

Third I look back
Disgust in my eyes
Fourth I'm regretful
And wondering why

Fifth I return to the initial state
And get over myself with a fresh slate

Then it stops to begin all again
I start to write but suddenly then
I think of the past and the things that I've written
And I feel a bit pretentious
Like an arrogant kitten

But when that subsides
Ideas start to flow
Ignore what I thought
I'm now in the know

And when tomorrow comes
I won't be ready
I'm thrown back to the wall
Of being unsteady

And that's how my mind
On poetry turns round
The same for everyone?
Or do I confound?

© Dana L. 2013