When the Noose is Dripping Ink

A valiant (I think) attempt to murder writers block. >.<

I remove my studded bracelet
And replace it with some lace.
Where my straight leg pants were,
A crinoline took their place.

I put on a pretty bonnet,
With ribbons through my hair.
A bodice instead of leather coat
Makes my figure seem so fair.

I paint my face the palest white
And brush my cheeks with rouge.
I faintly line my eyes in black,
Glitter and shadow are removed.

Still, with harpsichord echoes
Filling me to the brim,
The words refuse to leave their keep
Of the purest seraphim.

The ink sleeps ever stagnant
Patiently waiting for the quill
To bring the inspired lamplight,
And with that, the Poet's will.

With gloved hand, I rest my head
And my sigh kisses the page,
As though comforting its blankness
While I stifle my own rage.

Author's Note

Blah! People said the only way to conquer writers block is to simply write. So my plan is... write about writers block until it admits defeat!

Reviews

[Song of Mercy]

Well, I think the block must be lifting for that was a great read. Barb

[Bran the Broken]

This is quite remarkably written! The imagery is fresh and interesting and inspiring, and I can relate (painfully!) to the throes of torturing self-doubt when it comes to trying to overcome writers block. Great job!

[Sabine]

As though comforting its blankness
While I stifle my own rage.


A gratifying dichotomy! As your poem, I am partial to a 'temperament ordinaire' as relevant to your final lines. Bravo! Sabine*

[crashandburnplz]

Haha, nice idea.

I like it, really.
Seems like your writer's block isn't so bad. :]