Victor Buhagiar Poet Free verse

Writer's Block

Sun rays dazzle my eyes,
an ominous dark cloud
penetrates my mind and blinds me.
Groping like a mad person
I search for my elixir,
gulp down the scorching liquid,
curse, pray, blaspheme and plead,
hoping for some insight
into life's mysteries.
The darkness clears momentarily,
a silver lining glows on the horizon,
a handful of ideas come my way.
I grab my journal to scribble away.
My hand trembles,
my stomach aches,
darkness envelops me again.
The moment of inspiration evaporates
as quickly as a pool of water
in an oven on a hot summer day.
I reach out again
only to swallow the burning alcohol
in the hope of drowning my despair.

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M. L. Kiser February 8, 2022 at 1:55 PM I once knew an artist who could paint his best when he was drunk. I'm not sure it's the best thing though; he didn't have to be in despair to do so either. Well penned of writer's block.

Cecilia Macfarlane February 3, 2022 at 1:00 PM Awesome write and good description of writers block. Hugs

Lisa Ricci February 2, 2022 at 9:15 AM Victor Victor Victor - Your entry may be entitle "writers block" but you still speak and have a voice with gentility softness emotion and more, much more. May there always be light and beauty that surrounds you. I can't believe we are in February. Have a wonderful night my beautiful friend. Remain safe and well please. Love and blessings always.

Joanna Daniel February 2, 2022 at 5:43 AM Very aptly described the person suffering from writer's block, Victor, we all can relate to it at one point or the another:) but drinking is not the way out, never will be:)

Harry Horsman February 1, 2022 at 9:42 PM You sure drowned your despair, Victor, if this poem i've just read is the result.

Joseph May February 1, 2022 at 6:43 PM Sometimes the ideas just evaporate, but your muse will return soon..

Delice Arleen Skelly February 1, 2022 at 3:27 PM Dear Victor, we all have trouble at times when creativity seems to desert us, and we wonder will we ever write again. It’s a dreadful feeling, but your muse will return. Stay safe and well…Delice

Connie Marcum Wong February 1, 2022 at 2:29 PM It is so difficult to free locked thoughts for poetry sometimes Victor, but I have no doubt you will overcome soon. Blessings xxoo

Sotto Poet February 1, 2022 at 10:46 AM A sensational creation, Victor, the impotence of a poet when he endeavors to push forward his established muse, is so vividly and articulately depicted! I hope you're doing well, dear friend.

Jennifer Proxenos February 1, 2022 at 9:38 AM We all get that horrible feeling almost like drowning - I understand you 100 percent. Hugs blessings Jennifer.

Mike Bayles February 1, 2022 at 9:16 AM Victor, I like the passion expressed here, about writers block. Hope, but not hope. I always say keep writing what's on your mind, and eventually, you'll have a poem or a story.

Eve Roper February 1, 2022 at 8:20 AM Awe, sorry my friend. Something that happens to all of us. Well said. Bless my friend with some magical ideas for verses.

Deb M February 1, 2022 at 12:18 AM Wow Victor you got it bad Ha!! Cheers Debx

Valsa George January 31, 2022 at 8:33 PM Hi Victor....the helplessness of a poet when he struggles to get his usual inspiration is so dramatically and powerfully expressed ! Indeed a remarkable write....

Debra L Brown January 31, 2022 at 7:24 PM Victor, I enjoyed your poem. Writer's blocks, perhaps a walk in the park with your sweetie. I am sure you will have a notebook filled by tomorrow. Blessings ~ DEbra

Kim Rodrigues January 31, 2022 at 3:17 PM ~ hugs, dear one. You always come through. Your emotions piercing the page.

Evelyn Judy Buehler January 31, 2022 at 11:15 AM I love the images you employed to describe the the despair of an absent muse, Victor. When the feeling strikes me, it sometimes helps to take a break. Later, I often find my muse has magically returned. Have a good week, Evelyn

L Milton Hankins January 31, 2022 at 9:52 AM Oh my, writer's block strikes me rather frequently, but though I struggle, I write on. I think imbibing alcohol would only make me drowsy!

Vijay Pandit January 31, 2022 at 8:09 AM Sometimes the ominous cloud hits us all. Your poem traverses into revelations of momentary light and dark again. Your poem gives voice to trepidations of poets.

Tom Cunningham January 31, 2022 at 7:59 AM The scourge of writers and poets, it hits us all occasionally. Hope you're well Victor. Tom