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You sit on your porch swing, miles away
Making shapes out of streetlights
Dancing in the dark
Looking for remnants of a red sun
Chasing after silver moonlight
A pen in your hand
Poetry on your tongue
But the wind catches sight of you,
Carrying the words away  
And everything remains unspoken
what do i write
is it because i have nothing to write
or because i have a lot of things to write about
i just started to write just so i can fill the paper
and it's not empty
let me stop because i will fill the whole book and i have borrowed it
©Grace Njeri
She wishes she was a cave,
So she could echo back,
Her poetry,
On paper,
Or maybe leprechaun,
Could summon her writer spirit,
And she would bleed,
On paper,
Like before,
When she felt weightless,
Like paper,
And free like the wind.
©Cathy Devan
deadhead Apr 12
i sit and i sit
trying to find
the right words,
not for you but
rather for myself.
i cannot describe
in mere words
what i feel or think.
i lose ambition,
lack the required
motivation to
write what i
want to write.
The blank sheet stares at you
   just your perception

That it's your foe
   a misconception

It's your partner, your friend --
   enfolds your verse in love

Breathe deeply... exhale
   your words dance above
writers block
leo Apr 10
I’m lost in my brain
thousands of words
swirl around my head
and every time I try to catch one
I end up with a word
I don’t know how to use
help AHHHH
can someone please help me?? its currently 11:16 p.m. and im stuck in a writers block T_T HELP
Faltering plans
An indecisive mind,
Consistency in itself is an art
An explosive start!
Followed by;
Fumbling fingers and idiotic ideas.
What next?
Do we pitstop like Hamilton?
We were in pole position.
Reassert, focus and keep on track.
We are the drivers of our own Destiny...
©️ 2021 Joshua Reece Wylie. All rights reserved.

I've been trying to keep up one poem a day. It's tough. I'm sure other writers can relate. This poem is about trying to keep that target going. A Formula 1 racing theme was completely unintentional and off the cuff, but seemed to work nicely. So it stayed and I kinda like the end result. I hope you do too.
Crummy Mar 2
I lay out the paper
I pick up my pen
I rattle my head again and again
Yet nothing emerges, I draw a blank
Just like this paper, all but blank
This mind far from empty, my thoughts race
Yet I can't get them down, can't find a pace
This mind of mine, so sporadically poetic
This mind of mine, equally pathetic.
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