Poem 3
It seems I always start out with the best intentions. Maybe we all do. But somehow I wake up one day, and find that I just couldn’t keep them. In this particular instance, I just couldn’t write a poem every day for a month. I tell myself I don’t have that many in me. But then I’ll be driving and three will come to mind and I think, I’ll write about that when I get home. And I step in the door and the dog distracts me and there is always a chore to be done and oh I forgot to respond to that text and what am I doing for dinner and then I just can’t seem to recall what I was going to write about and I am chagrined to have done that again. Even just there as I was writing about being chagrined I thought about signing up for yoga tomorrow. Which would take me to my phone and away from this poem. A poem about how I just can’t get myself to write poems.
Tomorrow is a new day. I wish me good luck.
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All the yes to this poem! I know I’ve done the same from time to time! I really dig this poem and I’m so glad you could write it!
Totally nearly wrote a similar poem.
They come to you at inconvenient times it’s true. Often when I’m talking to someone. I try to bookmark it for later but by later I’ve forgotten the strength of it’s pull. I really think I need commit at least one line to memory when this happens. Repeat it in my head until I’m sure it’s there. And brush aside other tasks as if going to the bathroom… “sorry, this comes first, obvi.” But I often underestimate how well I’ve committed it to memory.