This Whim is Done For

Exactly as the title says.

My fingers are worn and tired.
My imagination has run dry.
The colors that ran through my head are now faded and cold.
The memories of words that swam through my dreams have died.
They’ve lost their flair.
They’ve forgotten that spark.
The rhymes that used to come so naturally are gone.
The rhythms are lifeless and hollow.
The timer ran out.
The supply empty.
My whim of mindful flavor and color has ended, gone, split.
I can’t remember the joy of a good piece written.
Only spite for these stupid lines.
Pointless poetry without depth.
Meaningless.
My talent of poetry is dead.
This whim is done for.

Author's Note

Meh.

Reviews

[Emunah June.]

Woah. My mind just 'sploded

[kelly]

wow, now i feel all down and sad about something. your poems are always good at making me feel the tone. this is another reat example. great work, cant wait to read the next!!!

[Alexis]

PFFT. This poem itself is pretty amazing. I believe you do still have a great talent. Don't even start to give up. You told me you wouldn't. ;P I agree with everything Ki and Holiday Sparkle said. It all made so much sense lol. I must say I did enjoy reading this poem and I look forward to anything new that you write :)

-Sasayaki

[Holiday Sparkle]

I like this a lot. I think it is very good, and seems to make me feel not only the lack of productive writing you feel, but also a sense of depression.

This could be applied to many things in life.
Good Job.
I think ur talent is back!

[Ki]

From my point of view, I still see an undying creativity and talent.