#writers-block
Three words can make me feel quite grand
Or can fill me with dismay,
I really hope you understand,
I don't always feel that way.
Three words can make the difference,
Oh, I really wish you knew!
They always hold significance,
But they're not easy to do.
Three words! Three words! Stuck on repeat!
I don't know how to reply!
I want to run away, retreat,
Or curl up, cave in, and cry!
Three words I meet with every day
(I'm fairly sure you know 'em!),
I still never know what to say,
When I read; "Add a poem".
Sep 16, 2016
Sep 16, 2016 at 6:30 PM UTC
I could go on and on and on
But then I would stop.
Because I believe no one
Has the words,
Especially not I,
Not after the short time
I’ve been alive.
But what if I die?
I definitely wouldnt have
The words then.
Not a turn in my grave,
Not a thought in my brain.
I will have spent my
Living breath
Describing what I think
Death is like.
But by the time I am dead
I won’t know if I’m right.
I know what you’re thinking;
“She needs to unwind
No feelings lost
Yet no thoughts defined”
You’re right.
Please, don’t try and fix me
There’s a minute solution,
Bare with me,
Don’t bury me
with these beautiful complications,
Black flowers with white leaves
And red veins
Who says the sun
Can’t be neon-green?
The ocean will stay navy blue
And we will learn to appreciate
Ourselves, each other
Painting one another
Do you love it when I talk color?
The concrete walls
won't bind us
won’t speak to us
We have the will to kiss
But we don't.
Watch the glint in my eye
Become a glimmer.
In its reflection,
Watch yourself become an apple.
No, concrete walls
don't bind us to our fellow
**** sapiens sapiens,
and skyscrapers
don't portray the flora
and the fauna
of our generation,
yours and mine.
So if this comes down to nothing,
that's fine.
But take my hand.
Grab a paint brush,
carry this poem
with you or without you.
I no longer care about you
but for one last dance
I will cooperate.
I will find the words
for you.
I call myself nonchalant
yet I want more of you.
Aug 3, 2016
Aug 3, 2016 at 6:50 PM UTC
Dreams unknown murmur in the darkness of my imagination,
Whispering empty confusion that fills an unseen storm.
A hurricane lurks off the coast of my consciousness,
Waiting to be unleashed upon a blank page.
As I bandy around with my fickle muse.
Jan 11, 2016
Jan 11, 2016 at 10:02 AM UTC
They say the stars rarely come out in New York
But have you been over it, while sitting in an airplane?
New Yawks a galaxy
A galactic city named atrocity
Urging people to find themselves, and learn about themselves
Narcissistic like astrology
New York rushes me
And brushes me
OFF
New York is so inspiring
But yet
My thoughts are stuck in traffic
And trust me
We have writers on every block
*** holes
That mock
The tapping of your shoe
As you try and try to hush a crowd
Just so that you could get through
We got news anchors talking about how somebody got shot
and sometimes you feel your spirit beggining to rot
Because you can't stop
Imagining bullets
Shooting In every angle
Just dipping into your wakefullness like lullabies
Once in the heart
Twice in the eyes
And three in each ear
It's like **** what you think, feel, see and hear
But It's next year and your still here
In the city where the sound of an ambulance
Can be your alarm
and with a stranger you'll sit arm to arm
So come camp out in Brooklyn under the bridge because your heart will know exactly where those lost ideas now live
Come take the subway and study the map
It'll let you know where to go to get all your inspiration back
And if all fails head to the flea market somewhere sorta creepy downtown
And get yourself a muse
She'll show you around.
Dec 17, 2015
Dec 17, 2015 at 12:28 AM UTC
writers block curses my mind and
soul something is there but it will
not show in stead it torments me
like a foggy window it shows only
its undefinable shadow
a unrecognizable blotch just beyond my light
untouchable unreachable
ever there ever dark hidden but not forgotten
Oct 6, 2015
Oct 6, 2015 at 10:52 PM UTC
Writers block
In the words of confusion
I am caught
No train of thought
I forgot what poetry has taught
My mind goes blank
Not a single thought
No creation
Can I blame radiation?
No lightbulb in this head of mine
No decent rhyme
Writers block...
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 1:08 PM UTC
a page is such a cold place
pen has a sage who delves for inner face truth's
the page entrances with silent mocking
word thought dances just outside the blocking
the sage thirsty now craves sweet success
but only digs graves in the sheet of paper white
mourn the poems never born
sorrowful worlds in the words
sage now sleepwalking
his empty words never talking
Oct 12, 2014
Oct 12, 2014 at 1:36 PM UTC
There are so many ideas
Inside of me
Emotions, stories
Fictitious journeys over land and sea
I could paint them all
So beautifully
But it feels as if
I've lost all ability
To record these words
To let ideas come to be
Locked inside the mess of my mind
And I've lost the key
Jul 29, 2014
Jul 29, 2014 at 6:02 PM UTC
I cannot reach my Muses
And I'm beyond terrified
I can hear their voices
But there's no spark inside
Perhaps I've found another
And have not realised it yet
But the possibility doesn't halt the panic
I worry and I fret.
It seems muse has become affection
It seems inspiration is admiration
It seems awe is now infatuation
It seems I cannot deal with this situation.
Muse, I am searching
Dear Muse, please come home
Muse, please stop hiding
Please see this blockade gone.
My Muse, do not remain silent.
My Muse, are you blocked from me?
My Muse, my love and inspiration
My kingdom for you to be free.
Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 5:25 PM UTC
There is something within me
something I cannot say
the song of my soul steps forward
but I cannot translate it today
This song moves within me,
of love and choice and grief,
it stabs and bleeds my mind,
a sword without a sheath
The song of my soul is true
each of us finds it in time
yet until that fateful day
this poet struggles with her rhyme
Feb 27, 2014
Feb 27, 2014 at 11:36 AM UTC