I am in Orlando and my muse is not with me. What can I write for La Bloga? Qué? What? I wrote a poem!
BLANK PAPER
My piece of paper is blank, rain.
So many thoughts but I feel ambiguous.
How to begin? What words to use? Undecided.
I look up at the ceiling, I look at the floor, bottom.
If only I had read some books, procrastination
I would have many ideas to write, transforming.
This idea is good! Not really! Undecided.
Muse give me an idea, transforming.
The top of the page is blank and also the bottom.
No, there isn’t any idea, rain.
There should be a good thought, where is it? Ambiguous.
If I had gone to my critique’s group, procrastination.
I give up, I give up, I can’t think, procrastination.
Should I go to bed? Should I try again? Undecided.
If only I knew the right beginning, ambiguous,
I would have part of my story done, transforming.
My eyes are looking around, looking for an answer, rain.
If the answer is not on the ceiling, it must be on the floor, bottom.
So, an hour has passed, or maybe two? Who knows! Ambiguous.
There are many paper balls under my desk, in the bottom.
Maybe I will make it up, I have to do something, transforming.
But what can I make up? I don’t know, procrastination.
Could I write about a novel? A picture book? A haiku? Undecided.
Rain, muse, where in the world are you? Ambiguous.
Undecided, for how long? Top, right, left, bottom.
Procrastination? No! I wrote a poem! Transforming.
Story Copyright © by René Colato Laínez
My piece of paper is blank, rain.
So many thoughts but I feel ambiguous.
How to begin? What words to use? Undecided.
I look up at the ceiling, I look at the floor, bottom.
If only I had read some books, procrastination
I would have many ideas to write, transforming.
This idea is good! Not really! Undecided.
Muse give me an idea, transforming.
The top of the page is blank and also the bottom.
No, there isn’t any idea, rain.
There should be a good thought, where is it? Ambiguous.
If I had gone to my critique’s group, procrastination.
I give up, I give up, I can’t think, procrastination.
Should I go to bed? Should I try again? Undecided.
If only I knew the right beginning, ambiguous,
I would have part of my story done, transforming.
My eyes are looking around, looking for an answer, rain.
If the answer is not on the ceiling, it must be on the floor, bottom.
So, an hour has passed, or maybe two? Who knows! Ambiguous.
There are many paper balls under my desk, in the bottom.
Maybe I will make it up, I have to do something, transforming.
But what can I make up? I don’t know, procrastination.
Could I write about a novel? A picture book? A haiku? Undecided.
Think! Think! Think! No ideas, rain.
Rain, muse, where in the world are you? Ambiguous.
Undecided, for how long? Top, right, left, bottom.
Procrastination? No! I wrote a poem! Transforming.
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