A poem written by Barb Force

Last Sunday Writers are writing poetry!
I procrastinate.
Perfectionism– procrastination–paralysis

Yes, that is me.

I jot down thoughts.
They are all jumbled.
Thoughts race at the dog park.
Words careen as I drive.
Ideas soar and dance at the symphony.
Thoughts move to the rhythm at water aerobics.
Subjects change lanes on the freeway.
Words swirl around in my dreams,
But when I wake, they are gone.
And the paper: empty.

I set aside time.

The insistent telephone interrupts.
The lawyer-we need to talk.
The tenant-the refrigerator isn’t working.
The broker-about the re-fi.
The nurse-Mom hurt her hand.
My cousin- Aunt Terri went on hospice.
Constant drip drip – need new water heater.

Am I supposed to write?


2 thoughts on “Writing

  1. Hi Barb,
    I think my favorite line is “subjects changing lanes on the freeway.” I experience that even on city streets! It is a wonderful description of the battle to write. So well done!


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