Writer’s Block


The words won’t come,
Tied as they are by emotion,
Fettered by the bonds
Of my imagination.

And so I wait,
Empty page before me.
With a mind full of ghosts of thoughts,
All running in one direction.

Drifting fragments of phrase,
Tied together in incoherence.
The simplest setting down of sentence
Eluding me like water cupped in hand.

Fluttering bits of half-formed rhyme
Hang misaligned in my mind’s eye,
Yearning towards completion
And straining for becoming.

Still, the page remains untouched,
An unblemished white expanse,
As word, thought, and phrase
Reverberate within my mind.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s