A View of What Creativity Looks Like

(An assignment for class - a poem of description that pretty much covers the way I write.)

Dim room, double bed, duvet in a heap.
College t-shirt, too big.
Crew socks on feet, too dingy.
Calves tucked under, cross legged stance
supports legless laptop desk.
Cold coffee, chipped cup.  Cold pizza, chipped plate.
No cigarettes – quit cold turkey days ago.
Ink pen, ink fading.  Lead pencil, lead broken.
Battery meter reads 30%.

Cat pounces on balls of paper on the floor,

compositions that failed to clear the audition
fail to land in the wastebasket.  Cat’s happy.
Curse word contrails hang in the air with each crumple;
you bat away bad idea after bad idea after bad idea.
Cat bats balls of paper under box spring.

Newscaster’s narration fills the background;

something about a shooting, a snowstorm, a Senate vote,
spaceships from Mars landing on Earth
to take all the poets back to their planet to
live in the literary luxury they deserve
because they’re the only true leaders left,
the only ones worth listening to.

Spiral notebook sits open – inspiration’s waiting room

where sentences flash like nervous neon lights
trying to catch your eye.  Each word pleads,
Please pick me! Pick me!
Perhaps…once you peruse, you will
pick the ones with perfect meter
to dance time step across your monitor, your page
in time to the tick-tick-tick of the keyboard.
Others, less rhythmic, will have to wait, their
turn of a phrase to come some other day.

Clock face flashes 1:42 –

(Wasn’t it just 10:00 a minute ago?)
Cat’s claws poke you –
(Hey, how about some overdue dinner?)
Curdled cold coffee slurp startles you –
(Guess I’ll get a fresh cup when I feed you….)

Turn on tea kettle instead, settle for spicy tea.
Simmering, steeping Constant Comment a
private joke, personal internal monologue,
simmering, steeping constant comment on
the piece you’ll post on your blog,
include in your upcoming chapbook,
original oratory for the next open mic.
Newscaster continues to chatter:

If you go to sleep right now,
you’ll get at least four hours rest,
so you’ll be bright-eyed driving your beater
to buy a quick bite at the bagel joint
and be on your best behavior, not
bleary in your cubicle day camp
until you can get back home and
get back to real work. So
turn off the computer, the TV,
turn in for the night.

And you will…as soon as you

jot down one last quick line –
it’ll only take a minute….

(c) 2011 – Tracey Morris, All Rights Reserved

Is there no scenario that Calvin and Hobbes can't illustrate?  I think not....