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*Poem* Poet's Block




For some reason or another
I didn’t get around to writing this down yesterday
or the day before that
and the blank page is beginning to annoy me.

In a couple of months I won’t even recognize what it meant to me, or rather: in a couple of months
or weeks even
I’ll believe it served some kind of purpose
back now
when I was too lazy to write
(which I am)
or I was preoccupied with everyday
or I left my notebook back home
Which is why I’m writing something now, even though it’s growing late

The need to write is there
though I don’t know what I need to write
but as long as it adds up to a predetermined number of words, it doesn’t really matter.
I can’t write about things that happened today
because the date would be way off
by the time I’ve finished writing

I can’t write about anything
if I were to stay true to my ideas
and I probably shouldn’t have begun this piece in the first place.
But one could jump to the wrong conclusions
I might begin to believe something was not well
when the page decides to remain blank
It’s stubborn
and intimidating and frightening with all its blankness
But now I’m so far into the page, it’s ”okay” for one tonight

I can't write about the futility of life
because that wouldn’t be true
The date is also off
I’m actively looking for excuses
Maybe I was away visiting my parents on that other day
where I didn’t get any writing done either
(It’s a looong drive and…)
even though the date-stamp has long passed
I can always write how I’m sitting on my bed
dreaming about writing

It sounded weak and forced, sorry.


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