I waited
Pen held above a blank sheet
I waited, but nothing
I looked around and waited
For something
Something that can awaken
This mind, dormant for so long
But nothing
I want to write
But this mind is blank
This pen remained unused
And this paper blank for days
How frustrating to have
A heart obsessed to write
And a mind intent on sleeping
And so I wait
For that glorious moment
In a poet’s life
When everything moves
With poetic grace
And then I write
But until then
I wait
Frustrated (as a poet experiencing a writer block) for me is synonymous with burnt out.Yes I agreed to JoAnn's comment. Poetry cannot just become a framework to manufacture like objects.It is about feelings: an inspiration of love, remorse, hate, etc. There must be something triggering to unload such emotions into an instinctive creation of poetry.Good point madam. Thank for sharing.10.
For me those moments of poetic clarity are pretty rare. Nice work Jemarie.
Even God rested on the seventh day or, should I say after he created man and woman and turned over everything to them.
'The cure for writer's cramp is writer's block.' -Inigo DeLeon Anyone who is serious about writing has undoubtedly experienced droughts that seemingly last forever, sometimes to the extent of exasperation. For me, the record is 56 days. See, I even counted each dreaded verseless day. Greg
This is the first poem I''ve read about- no poem to write! Very witty, and I can relate. Thanks for sharing the process with us Craig
Your poem takes apparent nothingness and turns it into captivating poem. Well done.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
yes we all go through the writers block it's so frustrating.......that's when I just stop and start reading poems as much as I can...then it starts to flow again Nothing better when you can't keep up the pace from your mind to the page though is there: O)