On Writing a Poem

By Hannah Harry

I am on the defensive

Against a mighty foe.

One with the power

To prevent thought

And freeze the ink

Of my pen.

A blank page sits in front of me

Cheshire Cat grin

Playing on its lips —

A silent challenge on its blue lines,

A war between Writer's Block

And the looming deadline

That makes this poem a necessity.

The outlook is not hopeful.

With every

Scribble,

Scratch-out,

And X

Covering my few lines

Of attempted brilliance,

Despair unpacks its bags.

Smoke rises

From the burning wreckage

Of my poem.

It seems that I have lost

This war

To Writer's Block.

I lay my head down

On the table,

White flag

Raised above me.

But then,

Wonder of wonders.

The sweet sound of explosions in the sky.

Words drop onto the page

Like bombs.

Blood splatters

Or is it ink?

But I feel no remorse

For lives lost.

I only think of victory.

Sweet, sweet victory

In the form of a poem.