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Writer's Block
I sit, staring hopelessly
Willing the words to flow
Pen poised stagnantly in my hand
Refusing to write, to go
Ideas fly through my brain
But the connection, lost to my hand
Foot is shaking violently
I need to stretch, I stand
Reach in my pocket, light a smoke
Maybe to clear my mind
Walking now in circles
The beginning I cannot find
I lay my hands across my face
And slowly start to pray
Nothing new comes to me
My pen-hand starts to stray
A nap, a meal, and then a week
Slowly pass me by
And still the words are vanished
Now I start to cry
Writer’s block has taken me
Beaten me to a grain
Check back next week amigos
The words may have come again
