Karen Jones Poet Free verse

Untitled Writer’s Block

I live on writer’s block
Licorice streets poetic trees
Huge house on the hilltop
Walls made of words 
Some hard as bricks 
Others soft as a cherry kiss
Floors formed from passion 
That like me were walked on
Leaving only shadows no steps
For me to learn how to move on

I live on writer’s block 
Where women are too strong
To show weaknesses withering
Like night flowers in sun too long
Shivery is dead what else can live
In a cold lonely bed of fibs
Where lies are fried for breakfast 
Scrambled like eggs and bacon 
If you can stand to eat despite grief
For disappointment is appetite taken

I live on writer’s block where
Pessimistic parakeets parade
Flying with colorful wings
Like living rainbows above a grave
Breathing life in dead poetry
That slides down pastel page
Where muse refuses to speak 
Oh what a waste

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Joe Maverick February 16, 2026 at 1:52 PM Well if this is your output at a 'dry spell Karen' I'm sure pure delight will soon ignite.! Karen Jones February 16, 2026 at 2:04 PM Dearest Joe that is so kind of you and appreciated!

Tom Cunningham February 10, 2026 at 10:51 PM Very creative Karen, many of us have lived there at some time over the years.. Tom Karen Jones February 11, 2026 at 3:49 AM I hate when my ink is dry and my poems suck lol! Thanks for reading Tom.