A Poem on Poems (sort of)

Explain to me why

When the hour is appropriate

I can’t seem to write a single word

But when the sun’s gone

And the moon’s in its business

I sing like a colorful bird

My mind, it’s decided

My schedule is such

That sleep must, at times, come second

To urges galore

To craft a new story

And in the same night, start and end it

My body, it follows

Because, hey, why not

And puts off exhaustion until

The plot is complete

And yet, even then,

My thoughts can’t seem to keep still

Examples, you see,

are whatever this is

This poem, this freeform…thing

And anything else

This unthinkable hour

Of thoughtful creation will bring

I’m not, you may learn

A creation machine

I can’t just churn out all the time

My mind, it needs quiet

It cannot hold stress

Or it falters on the simplest rhyme

Nor can I, you see

Give a project my all

If the rules are too much set in stone

I’m a hard worker, yes

I never give up

But I like to do some things on my own

Rules are, in my opinion,

A necessary guide

They give structure and order and sense

Too many, however

Will do me no good

What might have been light work becomes dense

You’ve noticed by now

This poem is odd

In its rhythm, its patterns, its voice

It is, then

A stellar example

Of what I’m capable of, given the choice

I won’t ramble on

This is just a quick work

To keep me on the right track

Stay tuned, boys and girls

After these messages

We’ll be right back.