Writer's Block

Writer's Block

He sits at his desk,

Stealing long hours from the night,

Pondering, scheming,

Something new to write.

An attempt, maybe two,

Flowing from his hands.

His hair is haggard,

His mind is jumbled.

He doesn't understand.

His face, white and sleek, 

Waning just like paper.

His body, frayed blue: weak,

Like a pen bleeding ink.

Crouching, wishing, hoping,

He's putting paper to pen,

Praying, begging:

"When when when?" 

Reviews

[ATG]

You described writer's block perfectly. I hate this feeling. This poem was well written and seems well thought out.

[Nothing Personal]

That's me..thats exactly how I feel most of the time when I have a desire to write but can't think of putting together a stream of thoughts !! It's that elusive When? Nice Poem..!!

[IAmFiyah]

Writer's Block is an urban legend.