Wow, I am really drawing a blank right now
I feel as if the words for my next poem are there
But, I can’t see them
No images or concepts at all
I am having a poetic withdrawal
This is not fun, I can’t even hate it
I am having trouble forming emotions
this is taxing my devotions
and consequently my enthusiasm
towards seeing the next sunny day
as I sit here, a freshly cut rose
withering, withering, withering, away
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Hello Marcus i'm sure everyone on ph site knows how this feels. A very interesting write. As i sit here a freshly cut rose withering withering withering away.That's a brilliant line so i don't think you are in any danger of running out of inspiration.