AT MY WIT’S END

 

 

I’m at my wit’s end

running out of things to say

and returning

to the same old cliché

over and over again

 

and it seems dismal

in the opening day

of the new year

 

the dawning

of a new day and year

and I am silent

 

not a word spoken

thoughts stymied

in lockjaw

 

reaping the flow

of events

and experience

the ends finally

justify the means

 

ideas appeal

to certain interests

yet splintered

in the interim period

 

adventures, misadventures

situations unheralded

 

the passing minutes

fruitlessly tick away

in cold January air

 

fecund period spell of time

aimlessly swaying

into the stratosphere

 

It is still alive

I just can’t seem

to get it up

and get it down

committed to the page

 

 

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redbrick's picture

Appears to be writersblock of

Appears to be writersblock of sorts and doing what comes natural, just write through it until something intelligible results. One that most if not all on this site can relate. Thanks for sharing./Rik.


here is poetry that doesn't always conform

galateus, arkayye, arqios,arquious, crypticbard, excalibard, wordweaver

georgeschaefer's picture

writer's block sucks but it

writer's block sucks but it ultinately strengthens one's resolve