I miss

I cannot write Just stare in vain As my lack of verve Mars the page My thinking stops Dullness overtaking Bothered and aware This mirror needs breaking Cruel clarity Did descend on me Highlights all I'll never be All in all I had a good run Heads were scratched When contests I won But contests became More politics game Judging disabled To favour of enabler That isn't the rhyme Or the reason here I'm just all out of words You're all out of hear Nothing an audience can fix When self declaration As a poet I'm nixed Didn't look into Use of that phrase Was always a chancer Now I'm just laze Zee Maybe it's heat That delineates me I'm just outline of poet With no innards to see I miss, I miss I miss my muse All my ideas Didn't think I'd lose Too obvious I cry To even write of this It proves the point That my muse I miss To gaze at art See just shapes Where once I'd sail In great escape I have a plan To read a book But I'm still forlorn When I look up But all that time I used to fill With writing thoughts I now have to kill (your mind may wander... but I'll probably do embroidery) Let's let this line Be the end in sight For all I've proved Is I can no longer write