Today I wrote a poem.
You might not like it as a poem,
But at least poem rhymes with poem,
And it works well for a poem.
Time is all I've gotten.
Though I have not yet forgotten,
How to make poems begotten
And with luck they won't be rotten.
Rhyme is the key -- remember,
One cannot write without an ember
In one's mind that makes November
Christmasy, like 'twas December.
Every good things have to end.
I do not want to make you blend
Thoughts and writings into an
Rhymeless piece of shite.
The end.
Writing began at 08 nov 2021 and was put on hold for the better part of 2022 until publishing.
Throughout my years as a writer, I found myself unable to write on command. Every time I am faced with restrictions, deadlines or the possibility of working with unlike-minded individuals, whether it is a short story, a song or as simple as a letter, my mind seems to freeze and to actively deter inspiration, preventing ideas to form and prosper in what otherwise would be the perfect habitat for them...
tenpo li ante e jan e ma.
tenpo li awen e nasa e tan.
pona li sama pona lon ma ona,
la mi wile e ike li wile ala e pona.
I'm lost in the light
I'm lusting the void
People around me
Are nothing, but noise
I am surrounded
There's nowhere to go
The lack of the bright
Is where I feel home
Written at 17 August 2021
"No!" The angry student exclaimed, "I told you already! This is it! I refuse to change any of it!" He threw his papers in the air and stormed out of the lecture hall.
"What was that about?" asked the curious bystander, who helped Mark to pick up the angry student's essay.
"Just another art student refusing criticism," he said as he looked at his empty wrist, "do you know what time is it?"
"It's 11:05," she revealed with morbid casualty.
Written for 24 hour flash story writing competition, given theme was Ruthless Ambition.