Writecraft: Frankenstein's Creature

A little poem about the frustrated writer cycle:

Went to dinner, I did,
on a full belly I gathered bits
and knit together blood and bone,
sinew and tissue,
Hair and nail.
I loved it, then, and for dessert feasted I
on the thrill that I've laid hands
on life-giving and soul-making.
Reveled, did I, as sundown approached,
and my Creature came to life,
better than I could have known.
I watched him,let him wander, out into the fields,
till down the road he disappeared
and my heart then grew hollow.
The night took hold.

The bell tolls, and moonrise comes--
Look at this creature I've made!
He rises fully fashioned,
crying in the night;
he's unwoven and misshapen
due to my mis-craft.
Oh Lord my God, I am cold.
The knife is in his rotten hand.

He spots me, and drives me toward,
and I wonder, at this little thing I've  made--
Will this monster I've created
chase me to my doom?
By midnight I loathe him;
by one I've dug a grave;
two, three, and four, the great bell tolls
who will find this thing I've buried.
The six am sounds;
'nevermore!" I cry;

The sun sped high, in the sky

and rained golden down on me--

I basked within her depths

and knew the thrill of glee.

Dawn brought epiphany

and showed me new ways--

My fingers are too slow,

no matter how quickly do I go.

The Day flew past me,

quickening my heart--

and I, desperate for more,

dabbled in the rain

refeshing soul and mind.

Hunger. Life. Beauty.  Splendor.

All these I did impart--

I bled my soul on the page

and shaped me a monster lovely.

Warmly orange came the rays

and deep purple shone so bold

on my little Creature,

so lovely, so gold.

and all the while he's chasing me;

I'm running, no escape--

My Lord and God what is this thing

that my two hands have made?

The monster roars,

crushing earth beneath his feet

as we run along--

Keep me one step ahead,

and never let me behind

for this monster will slay me

with the two hands for him I made.

His great paw snatched my throat

and he drags me to the ground--

what happened next I can't say

but I turned on my creature

and my creature I laid hold.

He did not move,

but neither could I.

We lay fallen in the tomb

fashioned for my creation.

A thick pink dawn arrives--

neither do we move.

By birdsong I wonder

Morning light streams again

and breath re-entered my lungs.

Surely I live, somehow, some way--

We rise, staggering, coughing, from the floor.

We rise, my creature and I--

my creature that I've made, this beautiful work

of my two hands offers me his own.

Grasping hands, we do crawl up,

Hand in hand we rise again,

out of the grave I meant for him,

the maw that took us both.

The sun glows high, in the sky

and rains golden down on me--

I bask within her depths

and know the thrill of glee.