Blank Page
My pen hovers over paper
I think what can I write
I really want to pen a poem
But maybe not tonight
I cannot get the flow to come
My head is like a sieve
If only I could start a line
But nothing my thoughts give
Should I head up the stairs
And jump into my bed
To find some inspiration
From dreams inside my head
Or maybe uncork a bottle
To fill my page with ink
Why that’s a great idea
That’s what I’ll do I think
To pull down all the barriers
I’ve erected in my mind
I pour a glass of Chardonnay
Hoping the truth to find
From deep in my subconscious
Where I alone won’t tread
Taken only by my dreams
While I am sleeping in my bed
Then suddenly a child appears
His eyes are full of hope
I look and see myself there
Tying a noose into a rope
I awaken with a shiver
Running down my spine
I now have had enough
So I re cork the wine
The writing it will have to wait
Until I’m good and ready
And I can hold the pen again
In a hand that’s nice and steady
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
