Writer's Block

I get quite tired,
And maybe worn?
Isolating myself,
Trying to write a masterpiece,
A semblance of truth,
When really I have no clue,
And the words I search for,
Remain Unconceived within the deepest vortex of my brain,
My heart and mind in constant confliction.
My prose unformed and dry,
A single sentence,
Just a rambling phrase,
Nonsense,
Imagination has grown dull,
And thoughts run so rapidly,
There is no way I can grasp one.
Unfocused, sloppy, yet always striving,
Just end up writhing,
With unimaginative,
Meaningless things.
Instead I will wait for Him to tell me the words,
I will transcribe the truths he wants me to write,
And wait for my prose to turn to gold,
By his hand.
I will not discourage,
Or waste any more time,
But spend it with those I love,
And work hard in this land.

Reviews

[Wórdsmíth]

Books are the real friends throughout the whole barren sophisticated life grounds. Grab a book. Lay down on your fluffy bed. Put a cushiony pillow under your soft scented arm & stares at the depth of the words with your twinkling eyes leafing through the pages of your insightful book. Keep reading & reading & ov`r & ov`r again till the mind & heart don`t get collapsed to allow your beautiful hand to walk ov`r the blank pages of your life in disguise of new stuffs (that you all the time cook with the taste of your sweetness).

Very nice post. Sometimes, me too love writing on writers block especially when i`m hanging around with them. Keep writing!