Updated: Nov 7, 2019
So many words want to free themselves of me
They sit on the edge of a precipice
They hold each other back, sitting in neat rows
Staring at where they might fall below
The page is blank, the ink is wet
But still, I have not written one
I keep meaning to write more poems and stories, but every time I open my laptop, hundreds of emails confront me about the various demands the modern world has for me. This poem, although about writer's block, took a very short time to compose. Free verse is my favorite medium. My test for a good poem is how it feels when I speak it aloud. I refuse to think a poem is any more valuable than another based on how long it takes me to compose it. I hope that future writers and poets never waste their time worrying they'll never make it because they cannot figure out how many syllables should go on a certain line. Constraints in writing should only encourage more creative, presenting themselves as joyful challenges. When the rules begin to grate on one's senses, I believe it is better to throw them to the wind and write something that rolls off the tongue.