![]() |
A poem delving into the world when the muses have disappeared. |
Stuck. Like a truck spinning its wheels And getting nowhere; Mud caked and grounded. There is no movement; Everything is locked up... Dried out Like an uncapped marker. Shards of ideas intrude but none of them make sense They skitter; Like mice when the cat shows up. I delete what I managed And peer at the page waiting... Waiting for some kind of inspiration. Anything to come. Take pity on me. I feel stranded, like a pirate Grounded after a mutiny Left to die in a frozen wasteland That is the glaring white page. I take up my pen. Doodle. Let the ease of nothingness Soak into me. As I let go of the stress that holds me bound Soon my mind follows; It begins to play... And before I know it Images appear... Sketched in strokes Of filled in senses; Things begin to make sense. And I smile, Knowing I have defeated the beast again. 35 lines. Prompt for: Jan 19, 2016 (Fyn) ▶︎ |