I want to be sensible and write prose but there is not a figment of prose left in me at this moment to write.  I'm frusterated with my lack of ability to write prose at the moment, and half afraid that I may never gain that talent.  Poetry is simply too good of an old friend for me not to turn back to it when short stories prove difficult and essays bring out the worst of my descriptive writing habits.



But I'm at a loss because who really even reads or cares about poetry today?  No one but the poet-wannabees: and that is me.  Yes, I don't write it to show it to others (to my Dad's frequent dismay) - it's just a part of me; but I feel like I need to move on and learn to write longer and better things.



But when I try for the bigger and better things their meanings are just as elusive as my poems - and that doesn't work so well for short stories. 



So goes my life, I am a slave to the written word.  Well, not totaly - but at least a loyal servant.:-)