Writer's Block Poem by Justin Reamer

Writer's Block



Something I get stuck on,
Something I cannot break,
I try to figure out what to write,
Instead of staring at this slate.

I try to rack throughout my mind,
Thinking like Lewis Carroll,
I try to empty my head,
Unlike that crazed Will Ferrell.

What do I do?
What should I write about?
I can't think of anything,
And I just want to shout.

I think of subjects in my head,
Looking for available pictures,
But all I see is a big white wall,
And all its big bumpy textures.

Why can't I think of anything?
Why can't I write?
It'd be no better on a keyboard,
In which I'd type in plain sight.

What is the point of this?
Why can't my mind connect?
I cannot think of anything
That I'd rather dissect.

People complain about this all the time,
And it always does bug me,
I hate it when it comes back,
Stinging me like a Goddang bee.

Whenever I write this essay,
Though a procrastinator I am not,
Mrs Stoel may be proud of me,
Since she's very hot.

When will I get this essay done?
Hell, when will I get this started?
And, man, does it stink in here,
Because my brother just sharted.

I have to put the fingers on the keys,
If I want to get this essay done;
I have to think of something,
In order to finish page one.

My siblings are noisy in the background,
Interrupting my train of thought,
If only I had a quieter place,
To be where God has not wrought.

I can think of something,
I'm sure of it by now,
But I have to tear down this wall,
If I can jump off the bow.

Do't be sensitive of the water,
'Tis only a metaphor,
Just ignore what I said,
And go on out the door.

I need to finish this essay,
Which is due tomorrow,
But how can I do something,
When I'm surrounded by this sorrow?

I have to think of something,
For this English essay pronto,
Or I will be regretting it,
If I don't go for rapido.

It's been an hour,
And I don't know what to write;
And Anna's talking in my head,
She's blind right to her sight.

If only I could think,
If only I could write,
If only I was like Corrine,
So this essay doesn't bite.

Now, Holly's barking in the background,
Making matters worse,
And Lucy does her stupid beighing,
Making me more terse.

What am I going to do,
I cannot stand this writer's block,
I try to think of something,
Even with Mom and her pot of crock.

I will think of something,
And it better be very soon,
Or I will fail my class,
Looking like a buffoon.

And then I suddenly thought of something,
And I finally cracked the wall,
I thought of the Roman Empire,
And why it had its downfall.

There was an idea to my essay,
Thank God for helping me there,
I can finally write it out,
As I sit in this chair.

I have finally cracked the block,
This thing that I abhor,
I finally have my idea,
Which is what art is for.

POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
This is a poem I wrote during my junior year of high school that reflects upon the one essay in AP Language that I had a hard time writing. At the time, I was very frustrated, but these days, life is good, and I am able to come up with ideas quickly. I hope you enjoyed the poem, and feel free to comment and vote.
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Justin Reamer

Justin Reamer

Holland, Michigan
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