Literary Ambrosia

An author struggles to find the elixir that puts life in her prose

Where Is The Literary Ambrosia?
By Erlyn Baya

I hear the clatter of rainfall,
the hypnotic lull of a tide.
I taste the salty air on the beach,
the heat from love's passionate touch.

Inspiration swells in my chest.
I see, feel, smell, taste and hear.
So I rush to translate the mood
in carefully selected words on page

My manuscript does not seize his gut.
I fail to tingle the follicles on his nape,
or put goose bumps on his frigid arms.
Again, I long for that elusive contract.

My rewrite is done, I read it out loud.
The sound still mechanical and stiff,
no sparkle in the lack-luster prose,
falling short of literary ambrosia.

Where is the mood ... the elixir
that puts the soul in a manuscript?
Where's the spirit that brings a tale to life,
that impetus born within my muse?

I hear the eerie rumble of thunder
over a cold, laden sky, and I shudder,
feeling the mood revives inside me.
And so I begin yet again ...to write--

It was a dark and stormy night....