Writers Block Poems - Poems about Writers Block

Loss for thought and words Where do I start? My thoughts become a depart Memory usually serves me But not today No one seems to understand I am trying to compose But no suppose It seems Alpha Letters have no idea I am thinking fear No idea in how to preserver Trouble near Writers Block woes For the first time I need to relax and reserve my energy Later think For...

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writers block. Stare at the clock. like the rest of the flock. writers block. ...

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Writer’s block is a horrible thing. Like cabinets slamming shut. So the writer’s block begins. Day one of writer’s block. Nothing except single words. And then single letters scattered. Sitting on the couch. Sighing slightly. Nothing is fun anymore. I could cook a slice of toast. Or simply order pizza. Nothing comes to mind. Except the...

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Looking at a white blank page As if it has something to say Word wizard won’t you rescue me Lot lizard don’t please for free Muse is confused she needs prayer I’m bored and blue without her care Watching blood moon peeking cloud Pen saint or sin but write it down Writer’s use pen like a needle Now and then pulse is...

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Gone Missing As the new day awaits its morning sun, the blank page for my poem also waits. In stillness I listen for an inner voice, only to hear a deep silence in my soul. Ends end from where beginnings begin, but before I can end it I have to begin it. All I need is that one elusive key word to...

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Here I sit again uninspired No pencil no pen no keyboard desired I have to write or I have to play It is my life but just not today A pen is just plastic Pencil is wooden stick Wouldn't it be fantastic If I could wave it And have it create My great emerald escape From writers block and lost Fire or desire to make A...

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ROBERT SHERRIFF - AUSTRALIAN - POET -AUTHOR - SINGER - ACTOR - AMERICAN HISTORIAN – PHOTOGRAPHER Writers Block If ever I get writer's block I let my fingers do the writing And my brain does the editing RLS 4/10/2024 ...

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Pregnant with purpose poetic pause Writer’s block is not a loss Tiz diner delay in dinner display Food for thought will come someday Until then freewrite little bird Let loose excite winged word For your talent is too great To let a little Lego block in the way...

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Where is this place that I find myself in Was I snatched by a gun toting gang I don’t recall anything quite so extreme Since my poetic musings began It’s not the first time and it won’t be the last The rhyme thieves have grabbed me before What tricks did they use to silence my muse? She lies, bound and gagged, on...

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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...

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Opening and closing the curtains. Looking outside, then back to my paper. Silence. Then tearing sounds. The curtains scraping the screen. I opened the window to help me think. But the muggy heat is tearing me up. So I hide in the shower. Standing still, water flows. An inkling comes to mind. The shampoo slips from my hand. I try to hold on. But it’s gone. Trudging back...

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You feel that tension deep within your soul, momento mori, you are on a clock, inside are many stories to be told, but within your mind they seem firmly locked. The energy to take them, make them words, drains away with the weakness of the flesh, trying to make them real sometimes just hurts, and what you write reeks with the stink...

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A block of cells begins a life A block of time in which to try To grow to mold to give to strive A block of blessings before I die A block party so happy and gay A block of neighbors laugh and play Music games they dance and bake An evening so festive my mind can taste A block of cheese left...

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Sing a silly song with me off key Pretend we are big golden stars Walking on clouds gracefully Winning every suitors red heart We never stay down for long The force of hope in us too great We dance with joy the force is strong And angels will guide our way We don't need a color TV We entertain ourselves well In our hand of...

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My love for words creates mental pain- when they race around in my befogged brain. I sit here dreaming- pen held in my hand; mind burning aglow with ideas so grand. To be very frank, the two oft don't meet, the paper stays blank- my head whirs in heat. May go on for hours- these frenzied word games in seeking a...

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