Author Information
Writer's Block
In front of a computer with fingers poised
A pen floating over blank paper
The screen, the sheet glares whitely
Begging silently for the incredible words
For curvy words to flow across it
For the perfect letters to register
In the computer code
But your hands do not move
Until you give up and do something else
That block, in your head, made of solid black,
The bane of a writer's existence,
I swear it taunts, blows raspberries,
Makes you feel your ire raise
As it repeatedly reminds that
You cannot get words to form
In a slightly interesting way
A way that will be marked in history books
As well as your own of course
