What just happened here? I’ve no place to go
My mind is in a deep freeze, why, I don’t know
Here the paper sits, my eyes fixed upon the white
But my hands have been stilled. I cannot see the light.
In humor I’ve written of this trap before, but now it
Seems my muse has gone to death’s door. I write
Swiftly and leave, I just haven’t got the time.
But when I come back, the words upon the
Paper don’t seem to be mine.
Try, and try, the words just aren’t right! Whether
I’ll be myself again is a doubtful, “I might”
With my heart I wrote through my pen, not a
Care in the world. But now I look over my words
For comma, periods and such tiny things, and if it isn’t
Just right, the paper is thrown angrily on the floor.
Writing is hard work, I’ve been told time and time again.
It used to be fun. When did it become a chore?
Mary Lacey
2010
Doug
You just have to let it flow.
Take out the pen when you feel up.
Write about sad times too.
Just follow your mood and don't push too hard.
It is just like sailing a boat.
Go with the wind as it is your friend.
Amen!
John Michael Domino
Later, Mike
Sheri
Regis
Blumming cool writer you.
It happens to everyone ... some call it writer's block .... when we forget that writing is work .... something that comes really easy is usually not even worth the ink on the paper. Have faith ... you even write well when you're writing about how difficult it can be. Susan
Yesterday, I thought about writing about The Golden Bough. Thursday, I had flu and shingles shots and a rushed, stressful day at work on Friday. I speak my poems to the screen. I kept waking up with only a line spoken, staring at the screen with a headache. Finally, I quit after three hours and finished the poem today by typing.
Must have been a boring poem to make me so sleepy...
Ron
fee
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla. :(
Your muse has only gone on a temporary walkabout. Like a boomerang, it will come back. Cheers, Liz
With Love,
Cindy
(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in Tx., Karen Lynn. :(