...to all of the poets who have wondered....

When I sit down to write and nothing comes to mind,
I want to pull my hair out!
There are so many things inside,
Why won’t one pop to the surface of my brain?
It can’t be that I’m numb today,
For I’m certainly not.
Maybe I’m feeling too much at once,
My emotions are confused.
Where are you my muse,
When I need you?
If I don’t write something on this piece of paper
I will explode!
I am going to count to 10…
Maybe that will jumpstart them into action.
Sigh.
Nope, didn’t work.
OK…
I’ll go to bed.
As sure as I lay down,
Words will tear through my mind like lightening.
No rest for the poet.
No rest for the weary.
Writers block and insomnia
A lethal combination.

Author's Comments:
"Well...here's another risk...my soul is laid open for review."

© 2004