What's keepng me
From writing better poetry
(Beyond not finding a word
That rhymes with orange)
I don't see myself as a poet
No one has granted me a license
I have however somehow
Learned how to wheedle words
Out of my head
Onto a blank page
I'll admit I have had to
Kick them around a bit
After they have landed
Some had to be kicked out
I was sad to see them go
It was like having to fire
Your cousin who just
Wasn't carring his weight
My additional problem is
That whenever I pick up a page
Of even my revised poetry
The words are still moving
Some are embarrased
Asking to be replaced
By better more appropriate ones
Some adamately think that
They should remain
Just as they are
Some are trying to jump
From here
To there
For clarity
So what's holding me back
From better words and arrangements
What's preventing a coup
What's keeping them
From breaking through the lines
And taking over
They know how much work
It was to put them there
They know I am reluctant
To call them back
Without having stronger replacemenets
That's all that's holding me back