Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Such a procrastinator


Time and time again, I've settled myself down with notebook and pen, ready to get down a line or two. I get out one of the few books of poetry I own, usually 'Ariel' by Sylvia Plath, less often- ' 101 poems by 101 women.' I read a few pages then connect to the net. There are pages bookmarked for William Carlos William's poems and a Google search- "How to begin writing poetry". The list includes- "10 tips to help you improve your poetry.", "How to write poetry: some exercises to start you off", "A comprehensive resource for writing poetry."
I pick at my clothing, meticulously lifting each pill off the fabric,then pull up my sleeve to study the watch that is there. Carefully, I replace the cap of my pen and snap the elastic around the covers of the Moleskine. The laptop is closed, 'click.' It's time to return to the vacuum, the sink. To return to being a listening ear, the holder of the ladder as the light bulb is changed. It's ok, it's all safely locked there inside me still. One day, something will break the pattern, shock me out of it, let me get on with it.

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