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"."

[Poeticpiers]

Writers block is an oxymoron. Writers must write it matters not how or what they write.Once the flame is ignited it must continue to burn. So many subjects to tackle so many ways of expressing yourself to learn. Merely watching the antics of our fellow humans provides ideas enough to keep you writing until the last day of your life
You presented this train of thought in free form poetic prose not my favourite form bu you held my interest ivor aka poeticpiers

[Undying Glory]

wow this was epic work, everyone's going to love this one since we know all too well how it feels. and you're right this is truly deep stuff.
"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."
this has been a real pleasure to read. nice job

[Amy]

wonderful I truly felt something wile reading this great wok :-)

[Goodbye]

It spoke to me not only of the writer's block, but of what happens when we open our souls, and by extension our pens. (or keyboards, if you will...) It can be such a personal, existential process.

And what an exceptional job you did by writing about i!

[MuSe Ampoule]

You know not the value of a thing until you no longer have it. Isn't that what writer's block teaches us. To struggle for the profound strings teaches us even more to value the ideas once they do start to flow. This is an inspired work...if only I could have such a block.
"I cannot improvise when I know I can drown
Nor did my emaciated, starved soul
Possess the stride for such an adventure."

[Deactivated_BurningDemo..]

Well, you clearly didn't have any writers block here. It's really good. I'm glad to have read this.

[Kerry O'Connor]

I think writer's block is a good thing - it means we don't just scribble down any old thing but set standards for our work. The block is our own filtration system, getting rid of any crap before it hits the page.

[Cafe Reader]

Really wonderful writing.

[Zeitgeist Manifesto]

You definitely punished the writers block as much as it has punished you.
This poem is violent in its delivery. Emotion after emotion pound the reader's
heart into submission. The words are very heavy. It is excellent.

[Dark Empress]

Very good. I really enjoyed this. Thanks for sharing.