OctPoWriMo Day 12: Writing Through Writer’s Block
There are days when there is a need to write and yet nothing to say.
A need to feel a fountain pen in hand gliding across a smooth page,
Or the demand to feel plastic keys move up and down like a ballet.
There’s a mission to move thoughts birthed and housed in gray matter
So that they can entertain and engage others out in the rest of the world.
Those days are the ones where the page is filled up with empty chatter.
The subject evolves from nothing into writing for writing’s sake,
And when the writing’s forced the theme takes a U-turn into procrastination.
Having nothing to say leaves the writer with so much heartache.
Having nothing to say is much more bothersome than the other way around.
At least there are ears that can hear, eyes that can see, and hands that could feel a story unable to be written.
The writer just feels like they have been trapped in a sea of words and were drowned.
A writer that can’t write chokes on phrases they can’t taste,
They end up dying a mind-numbing death in silence.
This is why the writer must write anyway when faced.
OctPoWriMo Day 13: An Ode To The Cat
Oh how your soft fluffy fur shines
In the twinkling sunlight
That is disgustingly embedded
Into the carpet of my floor.
I smile as you gently caress
Your small grey shape against my leg,
But I regret giving you that box
That you tore into tiny pieces.
You can be adorably sweet and kind
When you cuddle next to me,
But when you vomit in the middle of the room
I swear to God you hate me.
You enjoy nature as much as I do
And I love sitting with you in my garden,
But I will still yell at you
When you try to eat my pretty flowers.
You bring joy to this apartment
With your cool and calm demeanor
Until two-thirty in the morning
When you run like you’ve been possessed by Satan.
You are an amazing cat
When you want to be.
And I just suppose
That’s all we can ask for.
OctPoWriMo Day 14: The Sunflowers
I made the mistake of growing tall sunflowers
On a second-floor apartment balcony,
The huge stalks of bright and radiant earth
Had blocked my view from everything.
Each stalk grew to an immense height
Like they had been spun with alchemy.
They expanded in their pots and looked
Like they wouldn’t be stopped by anything.
I had to dig them up one day when
I received a few complaints,
It turns out my beautiful rays of sunshine
Were seen as “out of place.”
A balcony’s no place for these autumn giants
Dipped in golden paints,
But I’ll never forget the intense jungle
I grew in limited space.
OctPoWriMo Day 15: Road Race
One foot in front of
The other keeps me going
—Until the finish