Writer's Block

What the title says.

I work so hard to compose prose.

To make words fit although no one knows.

So I suppose that one chapter may take days or months.

I have whole drafts that I think suck.

Another brilliant work lost in the muck

My thoughts are distorted and contorted to several brittle lines.

I think obsessively about characters, plot and time.

The movements of every persona, dialogue and random signs

Foreshadowing fate of the reader’s fellows

Yet forget small details as my critic bellows.


It is so hard to escape the tapping of my backspace key

Deleting every line to redo three

The instant one word makes no sense

I change the whole plot, and sometimes alter the tense

The reader may never see the hours I work or the thoughts that consume me


So this poem is a doorway to my mind

That I hope you took the time to unwind

And accept that I, writing frantically hate this poem for its normality

And reuse of the first word in this line

My mind is broken to finish this poem

So I must leave, ta ta so long!

The End

3 comments about this poem Feed