Hard-Wrung
The moment when the words come out,
That’s when my writing’s at its worst –
The struggling, spurting, roundabout,
The inspiration and the doubt,
As bubbles rise and burst.
The dread of what comes next,
There’s always next,
There’s always more to say –
The need to fill the page with text,
While my subconscious nags away.
So what do I take fright in,
Ev’ry sentence, ev’ry crumb ?
The grimmest part of writing
Is the endless writing yet to come.
The moment when the work is done,
That’s when my writing’s at its best –
At last I get to see the Sun,
And finally it feels like fun,
Now all that’s off my chest.
Of sure, there’s still the typos,
Always typos,
But they’re such a breeze –
I love to sit and smite those,
One-by-one, with such an offhand ease.
So what do I delight in,
Ev’ry sentence, ev’ry rhyme ?
The greatest part of writing
Is the having-written, ev’ry time.
Rhyming Couplets 