Diary Drabble – Dissonance

The words weren’t coming easy. Was it the jarring way he ended each stanza, or the dissonance of words on every other line? He’d been writing this poem for days, retrying everything he knew and the words still not coming out right.

Iambic pentameter sounded forced and amateur, and the freeverse made him sound like a slam poet trying too hard. His attempt at a villanelle fell flat, and the only version he was happy with was a slowly forming ghazal.

“You’re missing your muse,” his sister said...