Writer's Block

on it

What should I do when I realize
That my brain is not
An ocean of thoughts,
A realm of possibilities,
Where I could set sail,
Embark,
On a voyage of discovery and possible contentment.

But a shallow lake which gets bone dry
On hot, sweltering summers, so that
There is a hint of salt and a thin layer of evaporites,
Left until it rains again
"God knows when".

When I had picked the pen,
You did not forewarn me at all
And look now what you have done
You careless Ambition, You mad Desire.
I am engulfed in a total eclipse
All I've got is dark shadows and faint dusk.

There are ideas and there are words
But there is the endless sea between them
Which I know I cannot swim across.
You did not teach me how to swim,
I cannot improvise when I know I can drown
Nor did my emaciated, starved soul
Possess the stride for such an adventure.

There were times and there were hours,
In the past , sans nombre
When frustration was a dear friend of mine.
I asked him to sit with me
Greeted him with warm coffee
And a chocolate cookie.
And chatted with him ,
Away
Until he said "It's late, I gotta go".

These days he won't come for that coffee
He's too wise you see.
Instead he would sneak in through the backdoor of my house
And hide in my bedroom closet
And finally into my comforter on my bed.

I cannot go to office now,
I do not go to office now,
I need to be sick and unwell,
I need to write real good .
I was hoping Kapka Kassabova
Would be my greek goddess tonight
And teach me how to love when I write
And how to write when I love.

She could warn me not to be haunted
By a past which I have not seen
Ancient civilizations where I and She
Were estranged lovers who never met.

Why don't I take the public bus
On a cloudy and chilly day in Texas
Wait for it,
And watch the cars rush by me on the highway.
It would take me to an abode of ideas
To Himalayas of thoughts
And build me a bridge of pebbles
Somewhere in the sea.

I may only have two hours now
Or Three if I don't eat or take the shower
But I could and I should head home
Where it rains and it drizzles;
Droplets on my bare skin and toes
Which feels oceans beneath my feet.
Slowly.

I should keep walking faster and faster
Till beads of sweat on my chin and my throat
Become indistinguishable from the rain.
And add to that riveting flow
A drop in the Ocean
Where you all come to swim.


© Nothing Personal. December 22, 2010.

Author's Note

The poem is deeper than title, I assure you all

Reviews

[underwriter]

again another fantastic write! i love the humor you slot into it. it makes it come alive a more. not that it needs any help! wow, truly inspirational writing!
"There were times and there were hours,
In the past , sans nombre
When frustration was a dear friend of mine.
I asked him to sit with me
Greeted him with warm coffee
And a chocolate cookie.
And chatted with him ,
Away
Until he said "It's late, I gotta go"."

[Ice QueenJen]

sounds about right when you want to write but have all these swirling emotions inside your head, and it makes you lose focus of what you need to write.

[Calypso]

very deep

[Stacey]

A very intense and thought provoking write! I like the conflict of the title with the verse...for you had much to say. And when we wonder and ponder on life and look around for inspiration we don't always see it, yet you turn around one day and it's staring you in the face. Loved the verse and the read!

[Nautili]

The irony of the title when you produce such a vastly rich piece of work from it. Nice.

[Aekmy]

Brilliant, and everyone seems to like it as well! I love the vocabulary used in this piece and the many metaphors and alliteration. This flows nicely. It really hits home; it should Aha. Considering we're all writers here. Well done, well done.

[David Keagan]

Definatly consider yourself a master of the art of poetry. Beautiful, detailed just how i like, all time favorite and number 1! shelved

[Zackery Alan Daley]

Starts out slow and seemingly goes faster, or the pace quickens somehow, I don't know if this were your intentions but it works out beautifully. References to nature are a shining core to this articulate piece.

[faryn wolff]

oceans deeper than the title. brilliant, wonderful, brilliant..

[Kathy]

This is really amazing! Truly, this is very deep, insightful, as if one is trying to fight with themselves over their writer's block, over what they thought was a flowing sea of imagination, but always disappointed and frustrated when getting writer's block, not wanting it to happen since they didn't think they would ever get; didn't think it was part of the deal.

You have great talent. Great job, bravo! I'll gladly be willing to read more of your work anytime soon. (:

[Geralyn Miller]

The Author's Note is a true statement!
You have done a masterful job of describing the agony of a writer in the throes of a dearth of ideas.
Might I suggest that in a period fertile with ideas, you spend five minutes of every writing hour, scrawling ideas, words, and phrases in a notebook, think of it as preserving ideas for the famine time; much as our ancestors preserved food.
Also, keep a note book with you always, by your bed to scratch out dreams immediately as you wake, in the bathroom to record your profound ponderings as you sit upon the throne, in the car record the little things you notice at stoplights and traffic jams and parking lots. There is no place so boring or digusting that an idea cannot spring from it.
The absence of inspiration is a phenomenon common to all artists, I also have sketchbooks full of ideas for paintings and sculptures.