Alexander F

I Don't Know What to Write About

A poem by Alex Farb


I sit there pondering,

pencil in hand.

How could it be so hard?

Just write down ideas,

but nothing was coming.

Therefore I must tell you,


I don't know what to write about.


There are other people writing.

Writing of problems and struggles.

Writing of facts and opinions.

Writing of Dreams and nightmares.

All of these people writing and writing.

But I sit here and still,


I don't know what to write about.


Why is it so hard to know what to write?

It seems so simple almost all the time.

But today is just not a creative day.

But then I suddenly realized,

I knew what to write.

How could I have been so blind?

It was so obvious, now that I know.

It is called,


I don't know what to write about.


Magnus Storm and the Shapeshifter

By Alex Farb


The tour guide led the group through Fountain Falls Park. The park had a lovely floral circle around a magnificent fountain. In front of the flowers were some wooden benches and a few topiaries in the shapes of griffons and centaurs. All around this centerpiece is a garden maze stretching as far as the eye can see. This park still stands today as one of the town’s main attractions.


As Magnus slugged along with the group, something caught his eye. It was a small bird, almost the size of a chickadee. There was something peculiar with this chickadee, at least that is what Magnus presumed it to be. You see, this was no ordinary bird. It was a completely white bird, aside from its eyes, which were a deep ocean blue. They had almost a human-like feature to them. Magnus only saw it for a second, though, before it hopped behind a flower patch. Magnus cautiously walked over to the flower patch, as not to scare away the bird. However, once he looked behind the flowers, nothing was there. Magnus scratched his head in confusement. He could have sworn that the bird hadn’t flown away. He looked up and there, on the other side of the park, was the bird.


He started toward the bird again, but, once more, the bird hopped out of sight, this time behind a wall of the maze. However, as Magnus turned behind the wall of the maze, he was surprised to see a man in an entirely white suit and top hat. He had the exact same eyes as the white bird. “Hello Magnus,” the man said in a classy, yet sly, voice. “We’ve been expecting you.”