Maybe I won’t write today, not let it out of my head.
There’s a nice rhythm to that, I thought, as I was getting out of the shower (and thinking: I can’t be arsed, why do I even bother?) Two lines, seven syllables each. Where are the stresses? First, fourth and last syllable of the first line: MAYbe I WON’T write toDAY – Tum, ta, ta, tum ta, ta, like a waltz, three-four time, then a final TUM and a pause for breath.
What about the second line? I fiddled with that a bit as I repeated it in my head. It had started as ‘I’ll not’ or maybe ‘I won’t’ (I can’t exactly remember), but I didn’t like the unstressed first syllable, and I counted syllables on my fingers and realised that if I dropped it, the rhythm was exactly the same again: ‘NOT let it OUT of my HEAD’, but I didn’t like the ‘not’ at the start of the line, it seemed clumsy like that, but how about ‘won’t’ again? ‘WON’T let it OUT of my HEAD’? Now I have repetition of the second stressed syllable of the first line as the first word of the second line, and I like that, I like it a lot.
I am thinking like a poet, and when asked, as I have been in the past ‘What makes it a poem rather than anything else?’ I can say: the rhythm, of course, but also the brevity, because it expresses something in a very short space – I hope so, anyway, I hope it gives you a flavour of how I’m feeling this morning, even if I don’t write another word all day.
I notice that all the words are monosyllabic, except for the first and last words of the first line, and the stresses are at the start and end of each line, with another one bang in the middle. They’re not iambic stresses, not alternating, they have those two quick syllables in between, which is what creates the three-four rhythm, and somehow makes the stressed words harder and the whole thing more staccato, full of pent-up energy, rage, frustration and… another word which flashed into my head and has now gone – resentment, yes, I think that’s it. Resentment that I have set myself this task of writing every day and I can’t be arsed, I really can’t, I have nothing to say, nothing to write about except all this… rage, frustration and resentment.
I don’t want to let it out of my head – or rather, I want it all gone, but I don’t want to have to sit in front of the computer and let it out, because I don’t want to do anything any more, I can’t find the enthusiasm and motivation to carry on doing the things I do every day. But do I want to share it? What else is there in my head right now? What am I going to do with the rest of my life?