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c-wolfPoems
My head is full of words; But they refuse the streams upon my face, They cannot pass the inner currents to the waterfalls in my neck, down the steady river in my arms, to explore the five sea-fingers around the oceans of paper. They stall, unwilling to battle the waves of rhythm, the dramatic pauses, the clichés, the stanzas demanding a neat, polished finesse. My head is just a mess; Nothing holds shape: no right, no wrong, no defined line for care, no clean space for apathy. Days blend as I pour sweet into sour, The casual joke a thin comfort against the deep gloom. My head is full of **** Tonnes and tonnes of it, a mounting, shapeless strain. I can’t begin to chart its depths or describe the sudden, sharp frustration it brings. I have no sense of rhyme, no anchor fixed on time, no guiding hand of form. My meaning turns from raw sadness to sudden, frantic glee in less than six words. All order, all feeling, utterly gone. My head is an empty pit; I write more about the struggle of writing poetry than poetry itself.
0
Mar 22, 2014
Mar 22, 2014 at 7:02 PM UTC
The Blockade
My head is full of words; But they refuse the streams upon my face, They cannot pass the inner currents to the waterfalls in my neck, down the steady river in my arms, to explore the five sea-fingers around the oceans of paper. They stall, unwilling to battle the waves of rhythm, the dramatic pauses, the clichés, the stanzas demanding a neat, polished finesse. My head is just a mess; Nothing holds shape: no right, no wrong, no defined line for care, no clean space for apathy. Days blend as I pour sweet into sour, The casual joke a thin comfort against the deep gloom. My head is full of **** Tonnes and tonnes of it, a mounting, shapeless strain. I can’t begin to chart its depths or describe the sudden, sharp frustration it brings. I have no sense of rhyme, no anchor fixed on time, no guiding hand of form. My meaning turns from raw sadness to sudden, frantic glee in less than six words. All order, all feeling, utterly gone. My head is an empty pit; I write more about the struggle of writing poetry than poetry itself.
(Edit.2) I really liked this poem, but wanted to try redoing it with my much older mind
#mess#my#writers#block#head#rewrite#writing#poem#new
Written by
c-wolf
English
Mar 22, 2014
Mar 22, 2014 at 7:02 PM UTC
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