Some days the only things that work
Are elements of style and craft.
A thought askew in meter true
Can still produce a decent draft.
A seasoning of mood and rhyme
With Shutterstock imagery
Can freshen up leftover fluff
From yestermorning’s poetry.
A line is all I need those days,
Reminding I can conjure verse,
Despite the voice that leaves no choice
Except for writing through the curse.