I think my muse left town yesterday. I spent the day trying to get started on the first poem for a new collection I have in mind.
I have my theme. I know what I want to say. I read and made notes and thought and wandered around the house.
I drafted an introduction for the group, which seems okay. But that first poem just wouldn’t step forward.
I tried verse. Tried free verse. Tried funny. Tried serious. Nothing nothing nothing worked. But unless you get the first one to set the stage for all that follows, you might as well stop right there until the water clears.
In the end I worked in the yard for a while to let off some steam and promptly pricked my left thumb. Bleeding into a paper towel, I threw a pity party for myself and made a cup of tea. (Lipton’s, Jane. My coffee? Folgers of course.)