Not Every Poem…

I write will be delicious.

There will be days when words refuse to flow

and ideas will shift, meld, drift away from me until there is just a blank space

that will not budge.

There will be days of mediocrity, words that need not be shared because really,

they add nothing to the conversation. No one is better because of them.

And still I write. Sometimes with precision and other times, the words fall through the cracks,

dismissing themselves, refusing to be harnessed.

There’s that word again. I’ve used it twice now, yet it seems it is the only one that fits.

Sometimes this thing will not budge and

it refuses to be a river.