A Poem in the Making

Sometimes, to set words in order

…to arrange them in the thought

That aches to break free from head-quarters

I cannot

Sometimes thought is like a shadow

Something that we cannot grasp

An elusive sort of vexing shaped by present,

Future, past

Sometimes words seem to evade me

In the quest to spell thought’s howls

They rebel against the ink of consonants

And vowels

Sometimes, to corral a message

In the borders of a poem

Is like capturing wild horses with the brandishing

Of broom

Sometimes, words attempt but will not

Sit quite still enough to stay

Where a poem in the making

Slips away

© Janet Martin 

Do you find that sometimes the thought on the tip of formation refuses, choosing to remain a sense rather than a sentence?