The Blank Side of the Paper

February 3, 2010
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Why does today have to be today,
Today when we have to write and then recite some poetry?
I can’t write a poem, I say.
I’m no good at poems,
My thoughts I can’t convey.
Get started.
The blank paper is staring up at me
Telling me to write on it
A story, a poem, anything
Just to set it free.
The blankness that consumes it
Presses me from within
I set my task to write on it
To release it from its skin.
Suddenly my paper flies out the window
Seeking the freedom it lacks
It flutters happily in the breeze
I know it won’t be back.
Great! Now I have no paper.
What do you want me to say?
My dog ate it, my brother ate it, I ate it,
Why do things always go this way?
Times up!
Oh, and now my stomach hurts
Can I please go to the nurse?
Fine, my teacher says.
But share your poem first.
I can’t share my poem
When I haven’t written a thing!
The kids will all laugh at me
They’ll point and they’ll fling-
Tomatoes if I go up there.
I have stage fright.
My doctor has verified,
He said I shouldn’t do it
And he’s always right.
You sure you want to hear this?
It isn’t very good
Maybe if I had more time
Say another week, then I could!





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