Blank.
As a sheer white piece of paper.
Sitting, waiting, wanting.
In anticipation of the coming.
What will, might, should happen.
Blank.
As a blaring white screen.
Blinding eyes and blinking bar waits.
For the words sure to come.
The words were suppose to come.
Blank.
A mind that refuses to function.
To conjure, imagine and expound.
To create a masterpiece of work.
A failed attempt of inspiration.
Blank.
As these walls that stare back.
Unwilling to release, relent and give in.
To help out an old friend.
Instead they stare in silence.
Blank.
As the sky through a window.
Still, cold and lonely.
Nothing moves in fear of change.
There is no noise of any kind.
Blank.
As a canvas on an artists easel.
white, blank and empty.
Lonely without her clothing of paint.
It cries for lack of love.
My mind cries.
Blank.
Copyright 2011 Lauren Hall ©
Having trouble writing lately? So am I....
ReplyDeleteActually, this is one of my favorite poems... perhaps because it is so clear, as well as being quite true.
The best thing to do is probably forget about it and come back to it later. Usually works for me.
ReplyDeleteOf course, this is something you just wrote already...
I did something like this once, I wrote an essay about how horrible essays were. XD
ReplyDeleteDannng girl, even when you have writers block you are able to write... how does that work?
ReplyDeleteI like it :)