A Writer's Block Poem by Lynn W. Petty

With pen poised over the blank white sheet,
Waiting to receive writings, inspirational or automatic,
Through some sphere of psychic channeling,
My mind remains still.

Bleak snow-covered tundra in an arctic freeze,
The whiteness of the paper blinds the eye of my imagination.
Feeling the chill breath of solitude sweeping
Across the barren flats of reflection,
I cap my pen and swear to never write again.

Then, faintly seen, upon a distant slope of thought,
A vague impression, a word, a sentence
Lights this winter sky; line by line
Trails of creative expression mysteriously appear
Across that stark, and frozen plain.
Like some great river's ice broken up
At first breath of spring, a poem is freed to float.