Writers Block.
A poem a day is what I'd sayAnd that is what I'd write
For a year or two, thats what I'd do
But then became my plight
Was it lack of inspiration
Even though its all around
What could it be, I could'nt see
For none of it I found
Was this poetic burn out
What I think is writers block
A pebble found upon the ground
Now became a piece of rock
A blade of grass no longer swayed
It was green and that was that
No country towns on grassy mounds
Or tramps in weathered caps
But still I know I'll carry on
I have so much to learn
I'll rant and curse for lack of verse
Until my muse returns.
Poetry by penfold18
Read 1364 times
Written on 2008-04-12 at 10:51
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by penfold18 Latest textsForest of Bere.The Witch. A Soft Spot For The Roses. The Enemy God Willing |
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