I so want to write, but try as I might,
the words don’t come, this mind’s an empty drum.
Cells remain shut tight, ideas just won’t bite.
Brain’s full of bunkum, notions are struck dumb.
It’s an terrible plight, because the more you fight,
the less you succumb.
Not a single crumb will see the light.
I’m not sure why, quite!
But I’m feeling glum, I’m hitting a problem.
Can’t my wits be bright. My thoughts should unite
in my futile cranium, and that is saying some.
I so want to write, but the page stays white.
New poems ought to blossom, in a state of equilibrium.
But try as I might, somehow, my words seem to have taken flight.
© Ernestine Northover
I like your cranium /saying some rhyme. Seems you've come out of your writer's block all write, after all. -chuck
Oh, never mind Ern, in time the page will be black again! A very very nice and interesting write..i love it very much..Just be patient, ha ha..you are really good!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I know this feeling only too well Ernestine, and try as we might the words just don't seem to................................................... Love duncan X