POETIC LICENSE
Pen in hand.
White sheet of paper.
Words that just won't come.
Stare at blank page
willing thoughts to flow
until disgust embeds itself
and paper becomes trash.
Turn on computer.
Fingers perched on keyboard.
Words still won't come.
Stare at blank screen
in vain attempt
to force thoughts into action
until exhaustion embeds itself
and plug is pulled.
Pen in hand.
White sheet of paper.
Begin to feel connection
between page and poem.
Hand moves easily and swiftly
scribbing words phrases.
Scratch some out. Try others.
Nothing rhymes. That's okay.
Paper becomes filled
with poetic rambling
and finally realize
there's no need for poetic license
to drive pen across page.
White sheet of paper.
Words that just won't come.
Stare at blank page
willing thoughts to flow
until disgust embeds itself
and paper becomes trash.
Turn on computer.
Fingers perched on keyboard.
Words still won't come.
Stare at blank screen
in vain attempt
to force thoughts into action
until exhaustion embeds itself
and plug is pulled.
Pen in hand.
White sheet of paper.
Begin to feel connection
between page and poem.
Hand moves easily and swiftly
scribbing words phrases.
Scratch some out. Try others.
Nothing rhymes. That's okay.
Paper becomes filled
with poetic rambling
and finally realize
there's no need for poetic license
to drive pen across page.
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