Going Potty

Difficulties experienced in the creative process

GOING POTTY

When the stars wink and hours whirl past
My mind is trussed to art's toil fast
To ignite the spark my pen I prime
And set my words to meter and rhyme
But my lines fade; my thoughs lack gloss
My verse is arid and crumbles to dross
I poke the embers; my wits turn raw
The muse is mute; I see no thaw.