Stubborn

My intention is to write some prose Why it comes out poems, nobody knows I struggle, wiggle, leave me alone As I sit happily writing a poem Words are created and suddenly rhyme I hardly revise them – I’ve not the time Give up the idea of writing a book? I feel I’m caught by a crook and a hook Following rules as the semester unfolds Smothers my brain; puts creating on hold When I find a second that isn’t filled I’ll write a poem, ‘cause I’m strongly self-willed!