Fox on a Boat

It's just past 23:00 and I haven't written my Day Three poem. This is insane - one can't lose inspiration after just two poems! Crazy crazy.. I looked at my seeds again, that still have not shown signs of life. I'm so impatient. I want those herbs to be growing already, so fast I don't realise it! Same for the front yard and my flowers.. I'd just wake up, look out, and they'd have burst out in a firework of colours.. Yes, this is why I don't garden often. Hardly ever, really. I wouldn't call it gardening . All this waiting does not even bring poems, which is quite sad. Am I lacking inspiration, or simply lacking motivation? Or am I, without even really realising, simply 'blocked' because I fear my poetry will be / already is bad? Actually, that fear is real, and I do realise it, mostly. I will always have an inside voice telling me it's maybe not that good , what I write. But I can often shut it up - I use my best Joe Strummer voic...

Attempt at a triolet, a form which I find difficult but want to be better at. Prompt here . The mountains stretch across the land The river's mouth amongst the clouds I wish that I could understand The mountains. Stretch across the land, Blue mountains upon where you stand, Safe from the problems and the crowds. The mountains stretch. Across the land, The river's mouth, amongst the clouds.