Lost For Words Poem by Rod Morris

Most times when I feel the urge to write,
The hands on the clock are well past midnight.
Within my head countless words run around,
Hoping I'll use them they're meanings unwound.
What is the theme that's about to escape,
To finally let loose; to explode into shape.
So I toss and turn till the sheets in a bind,
Start writing words or go out of my mind.
Suddenly I've gone word-drought blank,
I know there's more somewhere in the tank.
Those words that I saw with eyes tight-shut,
Still lay within me; perhaps stuck in a rut.
Frustration now makes me want to abuse,
That fanciful-fickle being I know as my muse.
My latest word offering will just have to wait,
Till re-kindled imagination breaks the floodgate.