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Writer's Block Sonnet

Karyn Indursky

Shall I compare thee to thy writer's block?

Thou struggle to find the right words is a hurdle

fighting against the deadline, darn that clock! 

Defeat smells worse than the milk that curdled.

Oh where doth thou find any inspiration.

Words are nothing more than fumbling mess

Thy poet sinks into sheer desperation

to express thyself, but is in disstress.

Oh to thy pen who's starting to run dry 

please let rivers of imaginations flow

down thou page in word harmony to fly

faster than a migrating running doe.

As long as the sun gives us light to see

the writer's right hand will never be free.