Long Writers block Poems
Long Writers block Poems. Below are the most popular long Writers block by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Writers block poems by poem length and keyword.
I'm Heavier than the walls of a writers block
Hotter than a favelas summers clock
I'm Rougher than sand paper, hanging on a carpenters sock
Distanced like lands separated at sea
step in these 11 and a half's , so i can show you what it takes to be free.
You once said it still hurt! I was dead!
You once said love, and i ****ed up.
I wish you would of read,
Me , as cool and empty as my breathe and lungs.
I should have woke up when your love rung.
I shouldn't lose, but it feels right to fail.
In war and love their is no mercy in this jail.
For us id move the gun for the canine to score,
yet, I've never met a person id try losing for.
"I got the blues ladies and gentlemen.
A round of an applause for our fine men playing tonight.
I have a love story to tell you about.
Its a bout a fine man, who was no different from you.
Yet, this man was a whole lot different."
He was strong, with a vision holding his nuts and nothing mattered.
So even the liquid couldn't get to his bladder
Maybe a brother, maybe a son, maybe a close friend,
it doesn't matter who or what only when it ends.
There comes a time in a mans life, where he is living and not looking.
It is then where he feels free and forgets about her first cooking.
In you i have faith my god, my mother and father.
It isnt much to say,
its just doesn't feel right to still feel love in 100 shades of gray
Im lifting the writers walls and cooling the sun with the moons clouds.
Ill pray i never lose this much.
Life is good, but shell never answer to tell me why she was so out of touch
No time, nor dimension,
can show what hes feeling,
another day it may be easier to take a break from this grieving.
Good night ladies and gentlemen,
i just pray you show her this note tonight.
Giving me a breathe, gazing into this uneasy nyc sight.
Ive learned to live without air and only with my memories of the world ,
you were so beautiful and pure on the first date as u smiled and twirled
"By then the young man turned into a gray angry man,
no tear could he drop,
Its then the girl played the music of love and he finally let his ego drop"
The heavens opened up and gave the young man reason to live,
she was back again, and he was stoned and passive.
Trying to catch his mental, he grabbed her tight, he lost his mind for one more time
to never forget her smell on that Bronx night.
Form:
It had begun again the terrorist threats
at first right at the height of my writers block
leaving beautiful gems surfaced from my minds
eye that was when the head lights parked baring
strange death threats plastered on license plates
interesting I closed my drapes shut my blinds shutters
when a red dot began dancing all over my living room
it had been two decades since my stalker fatal attraction
arrived with her gunman committing home invasions
in my townhome scattering a few poems an yet this
resulted in this man dying at my feet he was sent
to end my life over my own American poetry
there I was desperate with only the notion of the
federal bureau of investigations realizing I was this
confidential human source who wore wires pregnant
because the FBI told me my life was in danger on the
count of this madman had committed an arson murder
killing nine elderly person in hiding broken frightened
expressing myself through prose never knowing this
arsonist wise guy faked his death to get away with
the murders and decided to latch on to my American
poetry a score to pay off corruption to bully my
American poetry racketeer my life hence my death
for sport attempts on my life sending domestic terrorist
to enter my room ripping pages on my night stand
I can't imagine the bureau's reaction receiving my
desperate call of home invasions please help I screamed
thieves are after my poetry you see for me poetry
was this healing coping therapy for the panic attacks
the fear the anxiety the ptsd of surviving being
a confidential human source I could still hear
my fetus heart beating decades later seated
on my bed this red dots bounced off the wall
landing on my chest the killers were back enraged
basically forcing me to continue writing to fund
organized crime and corruption I peeked through
the blinds face to face with an assault rifle pointed
at my bedroom window could poetry really be worth
killing the writer how do one survive domestic terrorist
I close my eyes I see the gunman coughing up blood odd
I see the arsonist parked with my stalker a fatal attraction
literature is America's fine culture poetry is a gift from God
# 89
...And now a poem by Red:
...And we all say "forget it"
...I just want your kiss
Agent Arkansas 90766 BETA
Alone and Love
An encyclopedia of Lore history
Apples and the worm
Black Angel
Broken day
C-o-l-o-r...course our life off road
Can you find me now?
Confused by Confusion
Crack (the story of Donald)
Dawn
Destroyed
Did somebody call a Doc?
E-M-E-R-A-L-D
Emerald Lives Forever
Energy
Everybody's hurt
Finally A Song About The Things No One Seems To Care About
Forging George
Frozen Poems
Glass (story of Bonnie)
Good Friday
Goodbye you
He's in a rush
Heightened
Hello?
Hope "Sweetheart's" wedding doesn't suck
I can't title perfection- Title: Unnotified
I Hate This Part (idk)
I may be no Rambling Poet ((Tar form))
I'm a rheonotic
I'm leaving -I'm gone
I'm not done yet, Doc
Intro - The 'Real' Sonnet
It just so happens to be
Jared Pickett
Just kidding
Kar-ma
Kilometer
Kiss
Laugh with me
Laying low
Lost all sanity
Lost it all
Lost me key
Lost myself in Mexico
Love the rules
My confession
My frozen fountain of youth
My last poem
My Swoon
My victoria
Never...O.k. maybe one more time...and then never
New World of Old News
Nightheart's begining
Not your daddy's roses are red
Oh, here we go again, Doc
On Wednesday ((Tar Form))
Over and Over again
PDA: the next slam
Poems on Fire
Poetic?
R-4-E-7-D-0
Re-Confession
Remember this
Rheonotic
Rusty
Shhhhhh
Simle tune
So?
Solitary
Stop the violence!- and let me join in
Supernova
T-R-Y-I-N-G
Take down #0459587
That gut feeling that makes you laugh
The Beginning of Breaking down
The Great Sun God
The Night's Heart
The smartest thing I've ever done
The way I want to feel
The wise old man
This is how I feel (You and I/The damned and dead/Hell wants you too/hours and hours)
This one's for real
This way out
To bad.
Today is my day
Traffic (the story of Johnny)
Underneath the Upside-down
Unicorns are not made of corn
Unintended
Vampire fun facts
Verbal Altercation
Waiting?
War and Feast
War-Locked with a Poet Destory
Welcome to the throne room (Doc, it's not a slam)
Welcome to...
What we've come to
Why do we cry?
Why the world left me
Willing attack (What's left)
Wonder
Writers block (the story of Ronald)
Z2A in A2Z Order
I've forgot how to rhyme right
Lack of inspiration keeping me up for five nights
Writing rhymes to keep my mind tight
I'd rather be truthful than a coward who hides behind lies
An average poet, but you might find
a few lines that are designed nice
I need my heart to break in order to write when my mind dies
Yesterday I was sitting around missing her, now I'm over her, time flies
Being a poet is like being an addict because after every poem, I say I should just do one more line, guys
That line should be in an episode of Lil Wayne rhymes like
Making fun of celebrities for no reason, I'm shameless
I need a hot girlfriend so We can get rich the same way Kim Kardashian got famous
I'm just having a little fun, please don't take it too serious
But people get offended by everything these days in my experience
No disrespect to the Kardashians but I don't wish to keep up with their nonsense
I was a fan of a rapper until he said he's flyer than an Ostrich
Everyone is "Flyer" than something that doesn't fly
Or maybe I'm not smart enough to understand a rhyme so complex
There needs to be a "Worst rap line of all time" contest
Got told I'd be dead by 21, but I made it to the future and I'm not talking about the mask off guy
That line was predictable but don't mind it
I'm writing in Big Pun's rhyme book with Eminem's pen so there isn't a word I can't rhyme with
You may not agree with the form that I write
But writing was all I had when i was standing alone in the storm of the night
the white Mike Tyson, I was born for the fight
Maybe I should have a little more decency
They'll say I only dissed the Kardashians because they won't sleep with me
I went to write something nice but my pens crazy
Bipolar and inspired by Slim Shady
I've got a beer belly, but I don't think Dwayne Johnson has been to the gym lately
I don't know why I said that, this is the worst poem I ever wrote
But I just managed to write a poem without talking about depression, well almost
I'm inside of Jason Voorhees Hockey mask and out of my mind
But now my writers block has gone and I've remembered how to rhyme
The Tortured Poets Department has a writer's division that has to approve every poem before it goes out
And my mind is tired of being held hostage
A loose-leaf definition of writer's block was once defined by the utter of: I don't feel like writing, this isn't good enough, my hand only works for the remote today
Then she interrupts my train of thought to ask: why have you never wrote a poem about me
It's not that I haven't
There are 100s getting as comfortable as you can be in the waste basket
The last poem I Kobe shot, Melo made, and Curry posed to the trash can started like this:
An eye lash is trying to make your cheek more than just a Sunday service sanctuary
It wants a home
I know you'd like me to remove it
But who am I to destroy a home
I can't help but think how beautiful you look with that eye lash
As it rests there like a pair of doves flirting on a branch not far away from me
What are you starring at, she exclaims
Oh, nothing I reply, today I'll let the eye lash remain
On
Your rosy cheeks, kissed by my dead rose petal lips
Reminding you of the time we went camping and you hated that you smelled the outside
You hated that you smelled like outside
And I kept teasing you but hiking, visualizing, and tenting next to nature is maybe the closest thing to
Falling asleep to your beautiful
Falling asleep to your beautiful
Falling asleep to your gorgeous
Ugh, I can never find the right words to describe a tenth of your gorgeous
And it makes me want to drop dead out of frustration
Because the writers need to feel exactly what I do when they read:
Holding her hand is to get a glimpse of forever before I die
Holding her makes my heart resemble the flight of a butterfly
Holding her hand is to hold my battles in the palm of my hand and make them cry
The writers consist of a delicious various assortment of personality; often referred to as me, myself, and I
Every time I get ready to seal this poem to you the writer’s block me from letting you receive it
p.s. I haven't learned to love myself enough to love you...
~the Fear of Never~ A DRINK TO REMEMBER!
And the fire catches every time, my heart needs a sip
I bear no shame pouring, poisoned pabulum whisky down
Lost in a place with hungry whores, ink paying gigolos
This night a respected gentleman put's on his evening gown
He sits in front of a mic playing the same old sad song
Fitted out in drag, his wife has no clue
Holy breeders trying to change my shoes
Lingering from the Cute Chinaman, running his tab sky high
Bluebirds of jealousy, set round the vintage Barstool like fools
Minds overpowered and threaten to the very nub
I am drunk-- in his eye,
He receives a macabre confession of possessiveness
I am drunk-- in her eye,
She has a sick confession of subconsciousness
Broken loose from a negative, regressive state of mind
Sit and enjoy this broken bottle of champagne
Unspoken rage in every empty can left behind
A shot glass drops from my unstable hands longing to hold a pen
I look into a mirror and embrace every meaning of stability
Blotting out the madness behind a metal cage of reality
At times, I feel the need to bring down this masquerade
A drink so hostile, I can't even remember my image and name
Too many scars, from the foster of paper and pen
My dependents are drunken demons from a traumatized childhood
Tonight I will legislate a special thanks
Holding up my cup, until death finds my note
I will smile, at every Judge and Jury, during karaoke night
Shutting down my eyes, fantasizing everything's gonna be alright
I will not jilt knowing, writers block haunted my days away
Insecure hoarding monsters enjoying spoil forgotten words
Tonight I thirst like never before, my tongue inscribes around a tin cup
I am not eating up by it, no matter how long I've drowned in it
This is my kind of whisky, my thoughts, my days of ammo
To tell you the truth, I possess no desire to drink
It's all about the love of poetry and how sober, I become (WITHOUT)
The monsters that reside inside, have one thing to say
"Give me Poetry, or give me Death!"
by: PD
Writers Block
Silent, blank, empty mind;
Devoid of inspiration, a big waste of time.
For all I wish to do, is begin to write.
But all the words I cannot think of, have eluded my mind.
So here I sit, in front of the computer screen;
Just waiting for, a divine intervention.
Or maybe some divine inspiration.
But all I have on my mind, is a woman called Divine Brown.
I’m supposed to be a writer, but I can’t even write;
I can’t think of anything, original tonight.
All I can think of, is what other people have already said.
Maybe I shouldn’t be doing this, maybe I should just go to bed.
Come on brain think, of a single sentence.
Maybe that will lead me, to write the rest;
Or maybe I should, just take a rest.
But I have so many words, I wish to get off my chest.
But where to begin? I’ll see what I’ve written so far;
Well I’ve written the title, I guess that’s a start
And I know what the plot is, but where do I begin?
With who? What? When? Or Where?
Why is it so hard to think?
Ok so He’s here and they’ve just done that;
So all I have to think about, is what happens next.
Ok yeah that’s good, I’ll just type it before I forget.
No, wait that’s not good enough, maybe a drink will help.
Now I’m on my third bottle of wine and I still cannot write;
I guess I’ll go back to bed and try again tomorrow.
But wait, here it is! My thoughts are all falling into line.
Yes! That sounds good. They can do that;
Damn! There goes my phone.
Now where was I, oh yeah that’s right.
I had it just; come on what was I going to write?
If I sit here long enough, it’s bound to come back to me;
But I’m feeling so tired, I can no longer think.
I’ll try again in the morning, I’m too tired to care anymore;
Maybe I shouldn’t, be writing this book.
Maybe there’s something else, that will be easier to do.
This whole writing thing is too hard;
I guess I’ll just do a job that requires no words.
(C)2011 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
They call me Nock Knock,
I guess it’s because John John sounds the same,
And this is writers block,
That keeps just screaming' my name,
Thiers just one thing I want to write about,
Just one person that appears in my mind,
But its writers block that keeps giving' me a shout,
A person that has a heart that spells mine,
This person has taken over all of my brain,
But writers block is keeping' me from being free,
Now as my emotions start to go totally insane,
I start to feel as if I just really can't be me.
You see my heart is in another place,
And my mind I know is located near writers block,
My eyes want to send mental pictures of her face,
But my mind, its captivity, keeps my emotions locked,
You see I don't know where I went wrong,
Writers block is gradually slipping' away,
Because I'm starting to feel her where she belongs,
I guess the words "I love expressing my-self", writers block just couldn't say,
For her I am the impressionist,
The words "I love you" just isn’t going to cut it,
When I say there’s something stronger I think I'm being the realist,
I don't know...If she's just that person I really want to be with?
I guess it’s my love that really persists on reaching her for its touching bliss.
It seems like she doesn't want to keep in touch with me anymore,
I don't even think I was anywhere near "screw-up",
But I think I need to screw back a few steps more,
To see what between us really got messed up,
Now that writers block is gone I feel the need to let my emotions out,
To let my spirit free, to empty my soul of sorrow, to express my heart,
I'm just a little lost on how the feeling for her came to its doubts,
Since when did I ever feel as if I gave up like we're at part?
Two cutting edges between us really scares me,
We have never-ever really had any fuss,
Just the extra ordinary love speakers between the he and she,
But this feeling it needs to leave I feel as if it’s enough.
This is the return of the poet
I haven't sat with my pad in a while
I've been stuck with writers block, so I've had to search for a motive
I thought I was doing ok until my friend said she saw a lot of sadness in my smile
I acted like I didn't know what she was saying but I did understand what she meant
But egos get bruised when you question a man and his strength
The way people judged me for my breakdown you would think they had me on trial
But I've realised you can still have a great finish even if you're bad for a mile
I've been struggling recently, writers block was Killing me at night
I forgot about my ability to write
So many ups and downs, I've just been looking for some stability in life
So many questions I ask myself, do I like this girl or am I just using her for healing me inside?
Am I wrong for not understanding love yet and talking about such things
I've only known love once or twice, I'm ashamed that I've had more one night stands and meaningless flings
As I'm getting older I've realised all great men need a great woman on their team
If you ever played chess, you'd know that the king needs to be protected by a queen
Trust issues as I Grew up in foster care, so I never enjoyed christmas
Never had my parents present, but I picked up a pen and realised I was gifted
to heal from all of this pain and Demi Lovato are the only two things on my wishlist
I gained the strength to stand tall and walk away from the demons I used to sit with
Even on my good days I remember my hard days vividly
Never was a ghetto boy, just a Hip-Hop fanatic who listens to Scarface religiously
Hip-Hop has always been my light when the dark days visit me
The sky is still beautiful even if some of the stars shape differently
This is the return of the poet
I've finally took the time to sit with my pad
I'm slowly gaining confidence in my writing again, I've found my motive
The poet and his pen are back
Once my tears and blood dry
I'll transform into the good guy
I'll live with a smile like I've never seen love die
I'll start to be more careful with associates
I'll no longer say or think of anything inappropriate
Whatever comes my way I'll shoulder it
I won't drink as much
I'll overcome my Suicidal thoughts and won't think of such
I'll find another way to cope when my ink is stuck
And I'm placed with writers block
Sitting with my pad without a single idea and most of my night is lost
I'll get back up and start again without looking back at the height I dropped
I'll take Depression on in the boxing ring if you can get Mike Tyson to watch
They won't lend me an ear, So I'll take a leaf from Tyson's book and I'm biting it off
I only said that for shock value, hopefully you got quite a shock
Isn't it funny how I'm out of ink and they're writing me off
But there's a reason they're not getting book deals
Why would I have an issue with someone doubting me, when I don't even know how hugs feel
I took a lot of punches from Depression and my blood spilled
Back when I didn't think I could heal
Dragged through a mud field
No protection because I didn't have a good shield
Sat alone in the darkest room
Crying about my scars and wounds
But now I know they're part of my story and show that I survived
Even if you don't like the flow when I write
You know that I'm right
Pick your weapon of choice, but I have a loaded pen, so you won't want to show to the fight
As a kid I was scared of the dark, until I learned to grow into the night
I plan to win so I always grow and adapt to overcome my worst fears
There's a lot of hurt here
a lot of words shared
I'll adapt to the place you don't need to adjust the room
Hello Rihanna, I have a crush on you
sorry I thought I'd use a line to shoot my shot, but don't worry I'll shut up soon
I'm now over my tears and my blood's dried
So I'll go back to being the good guy