Creativity,  Poetry

Wordpile

Wordpile, stacked, ordinary

 

Writing poems is like chopping wood

Before the sun comes up on a crisp November morning

I swing my pen with confidence towards a waiting sheet of paper

And listen for the thunk of ideas hitting the page.

I cross-pile the words, phrases and paragraphs 

And admire a growing stack of fuel 

Awaiting a spark of creativity to ignite 

A fire in the heart of a writer.

Ardis Mayo