Try not to think about great writers
as you start your poem for the day.
Permit yourself one bite of Oreo.
Attempt to launch a metaphor.
Delete. Tea sip.
There’s apprehension even
in the quietest of ceremonies.
Little letters roar from their cages,
radiate a need for discipline –
the whip of responsibility.
Crack it.
Put down that cookie.
If you say you’re a writer,
you write, release the prisoners.
Let it hail an invention of claws,
let words thunder the landscape
so the townspeople have to send out
their distress signal. A whoop,
a holler, some kind of yawp.
If you’re lucky, they will.
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Words For People Who Still Read
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3 comments:
I do like the idea of writing a poem, or something like a poem, every day, but you're young and still bubbling with enthusiasm. I'm scraping the bottom of my psyche at the moment. But the joy of it will return I think, it always has.
Fantastic. The second stanza gives me chills.
I love this.
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