Writing Block Poem by pedro moshood

When the art gets easy
Just like a new 'tomobile setting out
On the highway early at sunrise,
You know that right there
The Muses have pumped the 'drenaline
Down the right gland, driving
The heart like wheels into motion
And then the fluid flows in full down the
Arteries, causing thousand alien bees,
Perhaps, from Mars to buzz right there in the tummy.

With more pressure on you like a clutch to
Accelerate on the road of creativity
Towards the journey that seemed endless,
Suddenly, pressures mount you like foot on break against
Bumps on the way and from potholes to congested route
And from the checkpoint to the traffic light,
Knowing pretty well the engine that sits right
There in the skull seemed to run out of fluid.

With deadline fixed, now trapped in haste
To get the task done before it's complete
You motion, ignoring the roadblock in haste to beat
The nightfall that races with the wheel
While the sky closes its lid against
The sun light that beamed when several
Stroke from your pen had dropped on the sheet.
Unrelenting, you risk several other miles until
You reach your destination to cool off for another day.