Taste It

I thought my creativity was dead, and I would never be able to write again, I’ve experienced writer’s block my brain was hard as a rock. Tossing to and fro, I wonder which way to go. Rhyme, verse, narrative, nothing was positive. I tried to write a verse, but my imagination got worse, so I went into the kitchen to find a way to begin. Chopped onion, salt and pepper, rhythm or rhyme? all forms declined. Melted butter sauté with thyme alliteration or blank verse? I had nothing to converse. I hang over the kitchen sink and think, but I couldn’t find the missing link . Chopped broccoli and chicken broth, limerick, haiku and didactic thought, a touch of shredded cheese and pepper, quatrain prose ballad whipped cream with tomato salad. I blend and stir, and bring to boil, and poetrysoup added the essential oil ©2013 Christine Phillips