i can’t keep twistingmy ankles to dance orbreaking my heart to write
Anthology
I would write you everyday. Poems and scribbles and notes, Until you learned The unevenness of my hand The habits of my penmanship The chaos of my scrawl. In a world of dying paper and ink They would save every scrap Torn from the back of notebooks Jotted down on well-folded receipts They would compile anthologies of my sweet nothings Until children who had long forgotten pens and lined paper Would press their fingers into the ink and indentations And know this is what devotion feels like.
No Rest For the Wicked
Inspiration rides the dregs of a late-night caffeine high, brain bubbles like a percolator on speed, firing synapses are the prodding pokers that keep me awake, inciting me to violent turns of phrases, penpoint picks at an itch long left unscratched. They say to hide one’s light under the bushel is a sin, and this must be my punishment. No rest for the wicked.
Knock Knock Jokes, or Writer’s Block Haiku
Knock Knock Jokes (Writer’s Block Haiku) knock knock- who’s there? what do you call a writer who never writes? a joke.
Just A Thought
All my qualms and worries about whether Iām cut out for writing dissipate when I realize that writing calms my soul in ways that no person or drug or possession ever can.
Post Number 1
Hi. I’ve started this blog in an effort to stimulate creativity. I suppose I can post the stuff I have written to prove that I am actually capable of writing, but i mainly hope to be doing flash fiction fridays, (click here for the person who organizes the fff and her bloggity), but other than that, it’s good to write, and I can’t claim to be a writer if i don’t do any writing! So, stay with me, fair reader, and a promise i will make it worth your while š