The Ring

Sometimes
I don’t know
what to write

words have curled
away
in fright
because
they
must
fight
pen testing
their might.

when it’s a
draw,
wounds
open
raw
signs of the unexpressed
reminders of life’s
see saws.

or a lose lose
both walking away
saddened
and bruised
sitting on a corner
drinking some booze.

Words will win
the pen finds ways
to spin
tattooing them
to the paper’s skin.

Block

Sometimes there’s a block

Words hit a brick wall

All fall

flat

Keep pushing the pen