A poem about working through writer's block.
Words, oh words, where are you? Come here!
I search for you and call to you
But you don't come to me. Empty,
Vacant space on my page. No clue.
I rack my brain, though it's in vain
my mystic muse has up and fled,
the wall is forming brick by brick
and it is filling me with dread.
But what is that within my wall?
A twinkle, a spark, a glimmer...
Oh, do I not finally see?
Please light, I beg go no dimmer.
A subtle inkling of a verse
appears, it taunts and teases me.
with some coaxing and finesse
the bricks tumble, my muse is free.
My words float and flow, verses grow.
"I'm free! I'm free!" the words do say.
"and if you want us to remain,
it's best you use us every day!"