I am a writer.
Yes, I am; I know I am.
So why is it that
I’m so often in this jam?
I start new novels;
Then, alas, the muse runs dry.
Three novels just sit,
And I have no idea why.
I am a writer.
I’ve said it o’er and o’er again.
“I am a writer!”
Pounding, pounding through my brain.
Since writing novels
Doesn’t seem to work just now,
I’ll write a poem.
They’re much prettier anyhow.
photo courtesy of “WildOne” @ pixabay.com
POETRY BY AHYOKA 
Reblogged this on A Visit With Sandra and commented:
Written for my poetry site, but I thought I might as well share it here as well.
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Regarding your last line: Yes, they are. 🙂
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