Haven't we all been here? Ironically I wrote this while experiencing this...
As we lie sated, the sky reddens like an angel's blush
...Ahh, the thoughts of my mind will not flow
I need a muse, an instrument, a channel
By which these floodwaters can open
The words I want so desperately to come
Are yet pent up, anxious, sobbing for release
Mustangs who have all their lives known freedom
Exulting in their stength and ability
Now blocked,encaged as with walls of stone
Sweating, pacing, they finally drop and weep in anxiety
And yet the pen remains unresponsive
A rosy flower unable to grace the world
With it's honeyed literature and soul swelling melodies
Trapped in a diamond prison
Lovely yet hopeless
And I pace, sit, stand, utterly mute
Yet bursting with speech that begs for liberty
And I am reduced from the usual place
At the table of ideas
Now relegated to little more than a beggar
Pleading for alms of thought
Scrambling after the misshapen, malformed thoughts
And sitting in the darkness,trying to cobble them
Into something lovely
But sunrise avails nothing
And I sit with my mind sealed
Waiting for the dam to burst
And the flood to enrich this barren white plain
Plain save for the lines, yawning into infinity across my sight
That show my inability to prove my love for life.
Poetry by Dominic
Read 1102 times
Written on 2007-03-16 at 17:12
Tags Writing  Difficulty 
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Writer's Block
Sweet singing winds flow over usAs we lie sated, the sky reddens like an angel's blush
...Ahh, the thoughts of my mind will not flow
I need a muse, an instrument, a channel
By which these floodwaters can open
The words I want so desperately to come
Are yet pent up, anxious, sobbing for release
Mustangs who have all their lives known freedom
Exulting in their stength and ability
Now blocked,encaged as with walls of stone
Sweating, pacing, they finally drop and weep in anxiety
And yet the pen remains unresponsive
A rosy flower unable to grace the world
With it's honeyed literature and soul swelling melodies
Trapped in a diamond prison
Lovely yet hopeless
And I pace, sit, stand, utterly mute
Yet bursting with speech that begs for liberty
And I am reduced from the usual place
At the table of ideas
Now relegated to little more than a beggar
Pleading for alms of thought
Scrambling after the misshapen, malformed thoughts
And sitting in the darkness,trying to cobble them
Into something lovely
But sunrise avails nothing
And I sit with my mind sealed
Waiting for the dam to burst
And the flood to enrich this barren white plain
Plain save for the lines, yawning into infinity across my sight
That show my inability to prove my love for life.
Poetry by Dominic
Read 1102 times
Written on 2007-03-16 at 17:12
Tags Writing  Difficulty 
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
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by Dominic Latest textsJourneys Through EdenDrowning Discovering Affection Fury Rose |
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