Literary Standstill
Am I meant to be found?
Do not force it
let it come.
Let it come,
Like you used to.
Filing away the words,
overproduced.
Distraction is no bad thing, I tell myself.
Coincidence, Nothing more?
Me and signs, How they pass me by.
‘Mind’ overused,
Same old thoughts.
I’ll remain a gentle soul to the end.
‘Soul’ for crying out loud,
My life force is fragile.
Stop melancholy, I could regret that later.
Absolutely, ‘beauty’.
There’s another!
Vocab, enter me, dictionary.
I’m far past the cliffhanger,
The walk into the sunset.
Where art thou?
I know, but I have it within me.
Loosely spoken seven,
Time for 3rd person.
He sat there, broad-shouldered,
Confident in his endeavor.
Really? To what exactly?
Bewildered, He pretends to stare longingly,
As if he once had an idea.
The camera pans back, A wide-angle shot.
‘He could have been a contender’.
He's just too damn aware of his surroundings,
It piles on the pressure.
Unimportant, maybe,
He’s willing to escape.
To where one must utter, To where, to where?
Enough, round up the story.
Twist the hand of fate, Sit back and reflect.
It wasn’t as bad as he thinks.
Time to bury those regrets.
Their eyes met,
He wistfully wants a second glance.
Imagining a street or a quiet café bar.
Sweat on the brow,
I think that’s been used before.
Director, break down his walls,
He is still getting nowhere.
Where, where?
Enjoyment.
Writers Block
-Confusing Possibilities-
-The Six Parts Seven-
Copyright ©
Lee Norton
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