Today I decided to conduct a tiny literary experiment: write a poem without using the letter e, the most common letter in English.

The constraint is arbitrary. I wanted to see whether something beautiful could emerge from it.

At dawn, a small boat slips away.
Its oars draw rings on blackish glass.
A gull calls out; no soul looks up.
Along a bank, tall willows bow.

Far off, a foghorn sings to fog.
Small roofs turn gold; a window glows.
By noon, no mark of it will last.
But in my mind, that boat still rows.

The interesting thing about such constraints is that they force unexpected choices. I couldn’t write river, water, reflection, silence, or memory. The language had to find other routes.

I particularly like the last line. The boat continues traveling, but only in someone’s mind.

A little experiment in how an arbitrary restriction can become a source of imagination. 🌿