A pen writes on a piece of lined paper.
Courtest of pixabay

I told myself to write
Even if I had to fight
To find a line
From deep inside
Or a single plot device.

I told myself to write
Squeeze with all my might
Poetic whim
Prosaic limb
Just let a feeling glide.

I told myself to write
With all the things in life
Such hurt and pain
Stress on the brain
But raise a pen despite

I told myself to write
I wrote, and I don’t like
What I put down.
But, turned around,
This poem’s quite alright!


Franklin Owens III is an artist and vendor for Street Sense Media.