Within the quiet, I withhold the pain
My muse compels me forward to explain
The pushing of the pen, pulling at truth
I prostrated at each fountain of youth

My muse compels me forward to explain
Yet my words are wrestling within this art
A secret lodged between the lines and heart

The pushing of the pen, pulling at truth
To release my demons, open the cage
A relentless filling of every page

I prostrated at each fountain of youth
All in search of a tap of flowing ink
I write this sitting in the kitchen sink

A trimeric poem, inspired by Dora’s recent use of the form and another poem, belatedly written for Punam’s dVerse prompt, which asked us to use opening lines from books as closing lines to poems. This one is “I write this sitting in the kitchen sink,” from I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith.

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Today’s Daily Stoic poem:

Impossible Without Your Consent

When the circumstances seem to crush
Throw them out as poor assumptions
When the outside is painted with a frustrating brush
The inside must not consent to these disruptions