We all at some time or another strive for perfection. The Scottish dialect poem below suggests an effort at social perfection.
Now something a little more serious.
How hard can it be to achieve?
The perfect marriage of words on the page,
and yet through all combinations we weave,
perfection seems to be of another stage.
No matter the arena or amount of work,
it’s as a carrot leading an ass,
yet behind which door does it lurk?
Perfection an oblivious impasse.
So why continue to sweat and strive
to attain the unobtainable?
Put down the pen, turn off the hard drive.
Perfection will the creative disable.
And yet it is in the compulsion to write,
part and parcel of the art.
But to the writers’ progress a nagging blight.
Perfection targeting – blowing the mind apart.
But once bitten a writer remains hooked,
A solitary sojourn through various drawbacks,
editing, re-writing until the words are booked.
Perfection compromised in published stacks.
© David L Atkinson June 2015