I was invited to write a poem

So here I am

Sitting with my fingers


Thumbs tapping words

Onto a screen




I have nothing 


To say


No, I want 

To be right

With my words


My flow

With free thought


So here I am

Typing with thumbs


Failing to reach

An emotion



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Morningglory's picture

Writers block

I am pretty sure I have enough poems about writers block that I could publish a book just about that. Lol. Life is good. Been eating and preparing for winter. 

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Januarian's picture

I think it was Mark Twain who

I think it was Mark Twain who wrote something that I read when I was an adolescent, aspiring in those days to be a novelist not a poet, and I was, in those days, terrified of dry spells.  Twain (and no, I am not so old that I can remember when he was around, lol) wrote that inspiration is like a well---and when it runs dry, it begins to draw from natural springs to replenish itself.  Thus, as he suggested, a dry spell means that a replenishment is proceeding, even though the poet or author may not be aware of it, and that those natural springs are contributing to bring the well back to a functional level.  

Dry spells seem like bad patches, but Twain seemed to think that they are really a good thing, because, when we fall silent, the well of inspiration is being quietly refreshed and replenished.


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Januarian's picture

Patricia has said it better

Patricia has said it better than me, but I will repeat---a poet of your talent will always have something to say.  The great cosmos in which our lives transpire does not abandon its own.


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allets's picture

I Write

When life touches me. Often cynical, something humorous - occasionally literary depending on what my mind permits to be let out. Good sharing.   :D ~S~



patriciajj's picture

Very wise of you to go with

Very wise of you to go with the flow of that very familiar apprehension, and in doing so you broke out of it, actually, creating something we can all relate to. You're a gifted writer, and there's no doubt there are many wondrous creations inside you, taking form, just waiting for the right time to burst forth. And we'll be waiting . . .