I don’t know what to write about and so I wrote a poem
The words didn’t really come to me until I let them flow, um
This will be a kind of stream of consciousness in theory
I understand if that’s the kind of thing to make you weary
I did a kind of dream analysis in therapy last week
But didn’t really get the kind of answers one might seek
Apparently I dream a lot of people with red hair?
And people who are famous; I didn’t think I really cared
An Amy Adams/Jessica Chastain amalgamation
The Archie guy from Riverdale (I watched with trepidation)
I don’t know why my brain was occupied with these three actors
I beat one in a fight, the other died, are those key factors?
It’s true I often dream about people I don’t know
I often dream about my cat; what is that supposed to show?
I see him every day; in fact, he’s always on my mind
At least his hairs upon my clothes I’m always sure to find
Are you bored yet? Should I go on? Do you find this method tedious?
Well, too bad! There’s more to come, so don’t be such a Pleb(ius)!
There are five hundred words to go for this bi-weekly challenge
I will not be defeated like some poor caught muskellunge!
(Yes, I had to look that up, it’s a fish from the Midwest
I did this to myself, I know, but it rhymed the best
Why not use another word, you ask questioningly?
Because I’m not a poet and don’t think accordingly)
My sister, now, there is a tried and true lyricist
Her way with words in meter is a skill that I have missed
Her poetry has always been both strong and elegant
I wish I had her talent but for me it wasn’t meant
What I do have is good sense, of setting and of story
I can world build like a mo fo, whether fair or gory
At least, I think so, I will admit I tend to mostly wing it
I think of one scene, find a thread, and very loosely string it
But once an idea forms inside my head I have to write it
Even if it’s only a single image I can’t fight it
Scenes just play out in my mind so cinematically
But I’ll admit that the results at times do turn out tragically
Kind of like this poem, which I am currently regretting
But I’m more than halfway done so on your patience I am betting
Who knows, I may turn out to be a star you can believe in
An Audre Lorde, a Silverstein, an e e cummings even
Who am I kidding, that won’t happen, not in any way
My prose is far superior, that’s how my words will stay
A Shakespeare I am not, at least I won’t write any sonnet
I guarantee my verse won’t stick, no bees within your bonnet
Oh god can I be done now please, why did we make this pact?
I still have to write two hundred words because of this contract
It seemed a good idea until we both became so busy
That the thought of writing every other week just made us dizzy
I had a good thing going there with my new adventure
Minty is a character of whose tale I can be sure
The road ahead of him is filled with possibility
I just have to write it, prompt my mind to mobility
But that’s a writing exercise for another day
For now I’ll just be satisfied with this, come as it may
I can feel that my inspiration is quickly drying up
I just want to go to bed and with a book curl up
I cheated a bit on that last line, I used the same word twice
Well sometimes it’s just hard to write, to give your words some spice!
A block upon your writing is a true and vengeful thing
To find the right words for each line, to land with a real zing
I think that I will leave you now, to go about your night
You no longer have to suffer through this poem, it’s all right
This ending really comes as a relief to you and me
Now go, before it draws you back, quickly, quickly, flee!