Poet's Trance Alternative Edit

[Leah S.]

(This was the result of a critique I received on another board. Please compare with edit 1, although it is almost a different poem.)

Poet's Fugue

If you suppose I'm clinically depressed,
I don't appreciate your kind dismay.
So what? I haven't had a meal today,
or made my bed, or even gotten dressed!
(Obsessed, I'd just neglected to ingest.)
I mined for words to prove in the assay;
I dug up metaphor that would convey
the deepest nuance readers can digest.
So don't be worried that I've lost my mind.
I couldn't feel the hours passing by;
I never heard my stomach's aching groan.
I'd been transported to a place behind
the world, where time's an evanescent lie
and every glinting word's a precious stone.

Edit 1:

Poet's Trance

I haven't eaten anything today,
or made my bed, or even gotten dressed,
and if you think I'm clinically depressed
I don't appreciate your kind dismay.
I didn't feel despair, or lose my way,
but scrutinized each line to find the best
of rhymes; the secret metaphors unguessed
as yet; the stunning phrases to convey
the deepest nuance to my reader's mind.
I couldn't feel the hours passing by,
or even hear my gut's regretful groan.
I was transported to a place behind
the world, where time's an evanescent lie
and every glinting word's a precious stone.


First Draft:
This one needs to be whacked into shape. Spenserian sonnets are strangerian.


I haven't eaten anything today,
or made my bed, or even gotten dressed,
and if you think I'm clinically depressed
I don't appreciate your kind dismay.
I never felt despair, or lost my way,
I just kept looking for the very best,
the perfect rhyme, the words unguessed
as yet, the stunning phrase that would convey
the deepest nuance to my reader's mind.
I couldn't feel the hours passing by,
or hear my hollow belly's distant groan.
I was transported to a place behind
the world we know, where time's a lie
and every glinting word's a precious stone.