Oddments

In search of story

The wimp who would be writer

6 Comments

I’ve been immersed
in the worst

kind of writing.

The kind
that mazes mind.

Forced to dredge,
lean over the edge.
No net,
no ledge
but cowardice,
my oft-times savior.

I waiver.

It is too big,
I am too small.
Words are too short,
life is too tall.

Why try?
I cry.

Coward!
taunts the muse.
Yes!
the writer dies
a thousand deaths,
singing revision blues.

Re-, re-, re-

re-write,
re-think,
re-visit,
re-ink,

re-member.

Again,
my pen,
again.

Look to spring,
the muse sings.
If crocus can arise
from dark place
so can you.

It snows,
stupid muse!
No crocus I
anyway.
Just coward
writer,
barely mettled,
words in pieces,
thoughts unsettled.

But
— a stirring underground —
wanting courage,
perhaps stubbornness
will do.

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6 thoughts on “The wimp who would be writer

  1. Terrific. Another keeper for my desktop.

  2. Thanks, Shirah! It’s such a boost to know you read along.

  3. Once again, you have put my writing experience at present into artful verse, with witty rhyme and clever argument against any cowardice on your part. I see only courage, and hope that your words rub off on me here hiding in the writer’s block bushes. Well done, Maureen!

  4. So good to find you here! And good to know that others hide in the “writer’s block bushes.” I suppose there are lots of writers in those bushes, but then why does it feel so lonely there? Well, we can but continue to hack at them.

    Thanks, Tamara!

  5. I think that sometimes writers block is the brain telling you to give it a rest. I usually find that after a few days head-banging frustration I return stronger than before, and can’t keep up with the flow of ideas.
    Great poem BTW. If you can do this when you’re blocked, when you’re not blocked you must be able to fly!

  6. Thanks, Jane! I agree that sometimes the block is a cry for rest. My writing mates have taught me that sometimes the block is a way to avoid something, and, as a proud and lifelong wimp, I must allow for that possibility. So when is it time to rest and when is it time to forge ahead and face what I’d rather not? Ah, there’s the writer’s question, I suspect.

    I’m so pleased to have your response! Thank you!

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