Block Poems - Poems about Block

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

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I have had this fear. It started as a rattle. I would rather not self-diagnose- worry my afro kinks straight. I let it pass breezily. In my room of metaphors I closed the door, shut out the attitudes of reality: Bold, beautiful, young, and restless. I wasn't mindful of her, She and you, or us. Our contact disassembling, just contract... tempers like daggers over lactose. "I'm unavailable!?"...

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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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I'm supposed to create a few lines each day, And arrange them into some kind of poem. There's always a new way to write them. Especially when it scans. It should rhyme. But today, the guide I need most of Is the coffee I perked this morning. But Alice, the cat, informs me That she's ready to dream on my chair....

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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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What's with this nudging- this perpetual nudging from deep within, urging me to write a poem? A poem of feelings, of rhythm and imagery. And I am willing- Grasping for words, phrases, perhaps something in iambic pentameter. But I am so spaced out. I swivel my eyes- back to front, peering into the folds of my spaced-out mind. My impenetrable gaze sifts through gray matter, where arteries pulse with bright scarlet oxygenated blood, where...

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Writer's block Today, while trying to write I noticed an ant crossing the opposite wall, for it was a vast expanse watching the ant’s progress, I noticed it stopped circling back like it had found something edible I thought it was disappointed resuming the walk until it disappeared in a crack between wall and ceiling to...

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I grab a pen with my hands cold and damp Blank stare cascades down upon the pages Broad strokes of ink beneath a buzzing lamp Lines land flat with thoughts couped up in cages Air thickened and foggy with writer’s cramp Words dissolve like mist slowly in stages Ideas rendered useless with no say A poet...

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I sat by a boulder, then an image grew A goddess with a pen hovered over the stone She said I'm a muse, with a mission for you To write a song titled "sunrise like a poem." I said "nothing rhymes with poem; I can prove it on my phone "Wait 2 minutes, I'll pull up rhymezone. She said, "You don't...

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“Gimmie another poem, make it a double!” Quote from John Lawless Block Head John asked for a poem. He said make it a double I took out my pen and knew I was in trouble Words wouldn’t come easy I couldn’t make them flow Lacking articulation My thoughts far too slow I grasped at my corners The pointy parts of my head I thought about talented...

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Anything I say likely said before I find my poetry quite a bore Poetry is seasoned by my lavender life Like grams yams with cinnamon spice I suppose I’ve looked back and laughed At poems of liquid love that didn’t last Of song rooted in strong feelings of life Remembering those moved on who died I look at my fellow poets in amethyst...

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A pen, a paper, a random thought like a stray bird in the net is caught, Writhing like the fish out of river Probe, explore, analyze, deliver… Unravel, ere it escapes or dies impregnated by the muse in disguise. ...

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I try and try to read long poems But then I find if it carries on I daydream or lose focus A.D.D. does hocus-pocus I try and try to stick to a plan But find myself wondering and Traveling roads less than ideal Who’s to know if it’s worth thrill I try and try to use my muse But in time I become her...

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Looking at blank page like it sins Why do I desire to ink it again What is it I hope to discover Inside or out within pages or on cover Do I hear me when I write of you Do I feel heard when you listen too Can your ears hear my heart’s truth Would I be free if you wanted to Lovers...

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