Writer’s block

When you arrive at the point where you are brimming with thoughts but at a dearth for words...

Writer’s block
Like that worn sock
That doesn’t fit right
With words threaded tight
Into an imperfect weave
Missing the instinctive fine sieve
And you just pull at the sleeve
To adjust the toes into the cleave
You watch them scattering strings
With your words fleeing on distant wings
You know you want to warm your feet
But not how to thread in the knit
One like this one right here
A writer’s block is a nightmare

A writer’s block
Hard pelting rocks
Thoughts and words
however hard you grind
One little slip can lash at your mind
You run desperate in desert finding rain
To end up with rhymes and metaphors in vain
That string you hold tight
Should the balloon drift out of sight
And yet all you find among dunes
Are just mirages to your tunes
Nevertheless the wanderer wanders
The hopeful heart patiently saunters
Red in face
Ink in veins
Someday that block
Builds a wall untamed
That sang of a milestone
Of hurdles crossed in fame
And thus spake the writer
Punctuating a promise to lock
To themselves, that they’d embrace it this time
That writer’s block.


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