The Page Is No Longer Blank

The Page is No Longer Blank

The page is blank and that’s how it starts

It won’t fill itself, no matter how much I beg

Where is that inspiration I had on my morning walk?

Strike while the iron is hot! My mom who hated cliches used to say

 

It won’t fill itself, no matter how I plead!

I can only think of that argument I had over lunch

Don’t cry over spilt milk! My Granma who loved cliches used to say.

I wish I would have said you don’t appreciate all I do.

 

Why am I still thinking about that stupid argument at lunch?

I don’t care what they think about me, I care about my poetry.

I should have at least said, appreciate what I do for you!

Back on task, just one word at a time

 

My writing is important, people’s judgement not so much

Let’s write a Pantoum, it’s okay if it doesn’t rhyme

Let’s stay on task, there you go, one by one

It feels like I am crocheting a cap for my mom, like she used to

 

I am writing a Pantoum and not a rhyming word to be found

Where is that inspiration I have every waking moment that I have no pen?

Weaving together words, I wish my mom could crochet me a new cap

The page is no longer blank and this is how it ends!