A Poem For a Contest

Exploring poetry is not an easy task.

It was a stereotypical start, Shakespeare and all,

Later words would come and go, I’d try my hand at art,

Rejoice in the order, the flow, the syllables

Only to throw words at a dartboard.                                           

Such is art, A winner chosen through chance.         

Talent drifts gently downstream, ever out of reach.

I hope for an early winter, and a frozen river made of inflated egos.