I
Some days you just don’t want to write.
You get up and you try to meditate,
but something is wrong with your dog and she
is harassing you non-stop while you sit
and you find yourself angry, cursing in
between deep breaths in and out. And the prompt
for today is uninspiring, the list
of brainstorms you made for sonnets runs dry.
And to top it all off, it’s a sunny
day, and the last thing you want is to be
couped up in your study with a dumb screen,
wracking your brain for some spark of idea.
It’s days like these when you just want to quit.
What would you do instead? You silly twit.
II
What would you do instead? You big nit wit.
There’s always chores to be done in the house.
There’s painting to be done, and laundry, too.
There’s always work to be done in the yard.
Pull a Marie Kondo, purge all the junk!
You could read a book—you’re are always
inward grousing about how little you read
and you love to read. You forget, don’t you,
that writing takes time and music does
and maintaining the household, it takes time.
You’re retired, remember, but you
feel self-imposed pressure to do it all.
The world would not end if you didn’t write.
You—you could do nothing, and you just might.
michael jarmer 