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BETRAYED BY MUSES
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SQUANDERED SERENDIPITY
I am again trying to write poetry and coming up short of the mark. It seems as though my muses are betraying me. They leave me stranded without inspiration. I try to change the circumstances but I am trapped. I can not find my way out of this labyrinth. The minotaur may slay me along the way. It has all eluded me.
those lovely visions
ever elusive hidden
never to find my soul
Now I try merely to survive. The poetry is gone; almost forgotten. I am just a soul trying to survive in this unconscious wilderness. It is not so early. I am learning that all too well. The illusions of grandeur have long since slipped away. I am simply wrestling to live another day.
my muses ignore
the whining plea of poets
not granting vision
not thrusting inspiration
unto a weary young lad
thought provoking
many writers have different cures for writer's block
... some go to bed affirming they will dream an answer ... and they keep notebook and pen by the bed.. others pray still others immerse themselves in the poetry of others and are inspired... imho God indwells you..
and it is inevitable that the connection to every muse will grow stronger
I pretty much try all the
I pretty much try all the remedies. I'll try writing prompts. Copy a sentence from a newspaper or magazine etc. Have pen and paper available in every room (including the bathroom). The important thing is to not get too stressed out. Americans are addicted to work. You need vacations and rests to recharge the batteries. You need occasional breaks from writing just as much as you need breaks from work. thank you for reading and leaving an insightful comment.
Decades ago, I read a summary
Decades ago, I read a summary of Mark Twain's various comments on various subjects (and I cannot now remember the source in order to cite it properly); and Twain suggested that writer's block was a positive experience because it was the natural refilling, from underground springs, of a well that had temporarily run dry. I like that metaphor because it suggests that the well, from which we draw poems, can be refilled; and that there are underground springs (I take that to mean the subconscious part of the mind) that will, given time, replenish the well. That is very reassuring. It occurs to me now that precipitation---rain and snow; which, in this example may be taken as a metaphor for the soul---replenish the springs so that they can replenish the well.
Starward
it is valuable. a writer
it is valuable. a writer needs to live life. If you are glued to the pen or typewriter, you may miss out on the life you want to write about.
That's very true. The great
That's very true. The great poet, Wallace Stevens, once wrote---during a time of disatisfaction---that life was more than just propositions about life, and that he had paid too much attention to the propositions.
Starward
Writer's Block Blues
I have been feeling the same way lately... But you shine with irony.
bananas are the perfect food
for prostitues
Writer's block sucks but have
Writer's block sucks but have faith and be vigilant. It will pass.