Blank Slate

No inspiration or divine intervention. It’s just another night filled with apprehension. All these straight black lines Burn into my mind. And I’ve no new ideas to break the tension. My poor imagination just lies there, dormant. My brain is screaming and my soul in torment. And this blank white page Filling me with rage. And I feel sweat pouring off me in a torrent. What do I say? And how do I say it? It's in my guitar, how do I play it? I fear that it's gone... I'll never write again... I am told to just hold on to perseverance. But I keep drifting back into incoherence. I pick up the pen Try to start again. But my imagination makes no appearance. My body is so tired but my mind is frantic. I want to give up, I want to yell, scream and kick. I should go to bed My poor aching head Don't let me hear you say writing is romantic. This is my art! I fear I betray it! My head’s a blank slate, I but obey it… I fear that it’s gone… I’ll never write again… This or That, Vol 16 Poetry contest 2/10/2023 Blank Slate sponsored by Edward Ibeh