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Distorted
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Healing Feeling disconnected for so long
Why does everything that used to feel right
Now all of a sudden feel so wrong?
Dream-like state everywhere I go
Used to be so alive and attentive
What has happened to the person I used to know?
Desperately trying to feel the familiar again
And fueling the fire that was needed
To bring back the soul that I was then.
The numbness is so thick like a fog
The knife won't penetrate
So I just play along
I've never felt so out of place
what I would do to go back to how I used to be
and to recognize my own face.
Yes I know the feeling
Yes I know the feeling passion slumbers creativity evaporates and the mind stagnates... pushing uphill for inspiration and inklings seems like an empty battle a victimless war... oh but how worthy amd honourable the fight to find a crack a window or door of expression fumbling around in the used to be... has someone stopped dreaming? Are we then fulfilled? Buy a new pen wallow in someone else's problems some times we put too much pressure on ourselves which is wonderfully seen in your expression like an addict we need more and more muse... I regularly take breaks because I often find I am liking who I am becoming it is just a long and thankless process. I hope it comes soon bit not too soon you miss a waterfall of inspiration! Hugss
Don't let any one shake your dream stars from your eyes, lest your soul Come away with them! -SS
"Well, it's love, but not as we know it."
The poem may feel to you like
The poem may feel to you like it was a bit forced, but this is only one of the falsifications of the writer's block you have experienced. To me (admittedly an old man, but I have been reading poetry since the spring of 1973), the poem flows quite well, without any evidence of being forced, and it describes what is, unfortunately, too universal an experience. I went through something like this way back when my life was at its lowest ebb in 1981. I thought I would never escape it, but, paraodoxically, the feeling of never escaping is just a distraction while time, passing, effects the escape. (I recommend Mary Shelley's Introduction to the 1831 edition of her novel, Frankenstein, for her description of the enormous frustration of writer's block.) That you have written this successful and eloquent poem suggests, to me, that the writer's block is beginning, like an untimely fog, to dissipate from you.
Starward