A Poet In Passing

I am a poet... Periodically.

You see, I present myself with a peculiar but persistent problem.

I pass through periods of particular passion, pumping out poems and pieces of prose unparalleled by previous pursuits, and then, my progress is pared.

Presently, I populate the precise point in time where I no longer perceive myself as a principally prolific writer. More of a poetaster than a Poe.

I have yet to find the proper panacea to pacify this predicament.

I perch and ponder my presumed perplexing position, poring over each parcel of print I possess, each poem and paper and publication, in pursuit of any possibility, Of any way to end my plight.

Painfully, the periodicity will prevail. I will continue to be a poet periodically, the perseveration unpassing.