Writer’s Block

Writer’s Famine

Before us awaits a simple task
Pen a few words making sense, if that
Sadly we’re afflicted with writer’s famine
A wall unbreachable, even by cannon
Determined we place our pen on the page
About to begin this war that we’ve waged
Without thought, we frantically write
Flexing our will, displaying our might
An hour later we glance at our work
A solitary dot where our pen once lurked

How can this be, what of our thoughts?
We must have them, how can we not?
We retreat for a moment into our head
Attempting to find these thoughts that we’ve said
Our minds are filled with fanciful visions
Living statues complaining of pigeons
We take whatever we can find
Dashing out, we escape our mind

Creativity in hand we set out again
We steel ourselves and take up the pen
We throw at the page every thought we own
No longer will that dot live life alone

With a sense of completing that which we’ve sought
Dismayed our blank page now has just two dots
Unable to turn our thoughts into being
The end of the famine remains to be seen

 

© Ryan Mathisen

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