i’m hitting a wall
with mood and motivation
where, when one interest finally finds investment from me,
all the others
fall
[and i think i may need them
all
to be truly happy]
i’m hitting a wall
with mood and motivation
where, when one interest finally finds investment from me,
all the others
fall
[and i think i may need them
all
to be truly happy]
i’m not in the mood
to poetize
today
maybe i will be
later
but now
i’d rather be cleaning
picking up the tiny little things
that make this table less clutter-y,
i’d rather be sweeping
vacuuming
bringing down indoor fences
so our puppy can romp around the downstairs
without the temptation of the couch
just yet,
i’d rather be chatting with my spouse/
beading random accessories/
eating/drinking/getting the day started/
watching the puppy
destroy all our craft supplies/
i’d rather be doing anything
but poem-writing
and yet
here i am:
faithful and firm/
stubborn and steadfast,
i made a vow/
committed to a challenge,
and i’m nothing if not
consistent
[ish]
the whole concept of writing
right now
feels egregious
to me
to sit in solemn silence
and ponder grand plans
tiny details
and all between
and simply translate them
to characters in words upon a screen
i don’t know why i
can go from sixty to zero
from brain chattering every day
so much to do, so much more to say
all the previous yesterdays
and then today
be struck
stuck
stagnant
and frustrated
by the whole concept of language
such is the life
and times
and minds
of writers?
writing
when not in the mood
is both
like pulling teeth
and like a sudden
surprise
meditation
surprise!