THE BOOK I HAVE YET TO WRITE

I have thoughts,
little ideas pasted
like cranial Post-it® notes,
mental nudges that fail to budge me
from my intellectual congestion.

It isn’t a question
of what to do with these scraps,
shards of words dangling like participles
on hiatus. It is a matter of prioritizing and making
wiser use of my time. I am mired in rhyme

and I am fine with it.
Every snippet or flicker of dialogue
gets bogged down and pushed around
by a more comfortably metered muse
refusing to relegate the floor.

I view my words more
like vagrant thoughts dancing with the wind,
hoping to land on my page, as a storied collection
that tells a grand tale. But I tend to fail in this pursuit.
The book I have yet to write

might never get done.
I’m having more fun on a smaller stage,
my poetic page blankly stares me down
but it does not confound me for long.
No matter what I write, I’m never wrong!

 

© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2016

Poetic Asides Prompt 343 – “Books”

 

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