Genre: poetry

Formless

The blank page regards me 

With barely-hidden mirth 

“Show me,” it says, 

“What you’re made of.” 

From the surface shine hints 

Of words chained, 

Straining against the drumskin 

Of the pale white paper 

Waiting to be released 

It’s not quite so simple 

Ideas take work 

They don’t just grow on trees 

Or in fields 

They’re refined 

In the furnace of the mind’s eye 

A scratching of fingers 

As the pen pierces the veil 

And the ideas are released 

Writhing, formless

Before their flailing bodies 

Are siphoned by the pen 

And released to fill in

The blank spaces

Reflection:

Writing poetry is far more difficult than writing prose. This is not entirely shocking to me, having written poetry before for various classes over the years. I find that poetry is a condensed, heightened reflection of the writing process; it is an involved process to attempt to create something meaningful about a single subject that doesn’t just peter out after a few lines. Overall, I would say that the act of writing poetry requires less structure, and more improvisation. I found that when I was writing this poem it benefited me to stop agonizing over my word choice and simply put down as much as I could in as short a time as I could. In this respect, poetry reflects the process of writing fiction, because ideas can come at any time while one is writing, and the best thing to do is to incorporate those ideas into the story as soon as possible, lest they are forgotten.