I woke up on this Sunday morn
with thoughts floating through my head
fleeting glimpses of ideas unborn
as well as terrors that kept me in bed.
In an attempt to get a grip
I took my pen and my empty book
with stabs and squiggles my words stumbled and tripped
as ideas and images refused a closer look.
“Forget this!” I cried, and threw my pen.
“You ideas and words are meaningless.
You tease and tantalize and give me a yen
to find a goal that won’t cause distress!
The stories that I have inside
can stay inside for all I care.
If you insist on playing duck and hide
Then I simply choose not to care.”
But that’s a lie, as you all know
the words will continue to seek a voice
so I will follow where the words blow
knowing I have no other choice.