Can You Make It (To The End?)

Mining thoughts for golden nuggets
For any kind of creative appeal
For anything present ready to spill
Trickle from between suddenly quiet head space

Misplaced troubles is the source of this
Fallowed ground left open and split
Is my time close, my signal to quit?
I expected poetic expression with a bit more wit

Pit of black, dammed flow,
Empty screen where words should go
Confused rhetoric, colloquial phrase
Still suffer from the need for praise

Raise my thoughts like community children
Like a Sunday hallelujah choir
Like amens going higher and higher
Until blessings in the form of stories rain down

Now you can follow me ’round
Along blocked, twisted paths
Not to salvation or hearty laughs
But to frustration and convoluted poetry

Not just me
But I hate this dammed creativity
(Or the lack thereof) eluding me

Metaphor(ically) speaking
Simile tweaking
Desk chair squeaking
Like the air blowing through my mind

Mind you I’ll finish soon
Not with something to make you swoon
Less arousing, more…
Grousing about my missing words

And where the hell are my words when I need them?
Hopscotching on cool sidewalks, effing losers
Glad you could lurk stop by
And listen to me bitch talk


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  1. MaríMar

    I despise writer’s block when it affects the people I look forward to reading.
    I wish I could give you pointers but I am not a writer. 🙂
    Love the poem though…

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  3. Nick

    Damn this block – it is infectious. I can’t think of anything to write as a comment, although I feel the need to leave one. Preferably witty, full of insight, slightly comforting but not cloying. Suggestions welcome.

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