Fighting words

I am, by both choice and inclination, primarily a writer of prose. However, from time to time my brain decides to throw a poem at me, which of course I must then actually work on until it is (eventually) finished, or it stays in the back of my mind bugging me.

Poetry does not come nearly as easily to me as prose does (probable in no small part because I practice poetry so much less), but I always make the effort anyway, if it really wants to be written. The current one has come up a couple times before, but was being more insistent tonight, so I have a very rough, awful draft down just to get some of it out of my head. This one is going to fight me for every line, though, since it wants to change rhyming scheme and rhythm in practically every verse.

You’d think, if it wants to be written so badly, that it would cooperate.

If I ever actually manage to finish it, I’ll probably post it. -_-

Poem: Cold

(Given that the wind chills are at least -35F this morning, it seemed like a good time to post this. Actual update on various things forthcoming.)



Ice on the window,

Smooth and opaque,

With an ice feather headdress.


Snow creaks and squeals.

Exhaust hangs in the air

Like a restless ghost.

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