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Writer's Block
by Brian Francis
Noises from the darkness engulf
and try to terrorize the soul
With words like daggers flung
across the distant cyber-spaces
of here yet there
When psychotic histrionics confront
the delusions of comprehension and mix
that which is, with that which is only within.
I turn away from the battles of electronic pages
And seek in the notes of yesteryear
Inspiration for the mind.
Frozen embryos of thought lie upon scribbled pages
Incomplete and forever waiting and wanting
For that what it could become.
Aborted edits strewn across the margins
Of unwanted notes and journals.
Doodles lighten a heart of sorrow.
With their dances
among the flowers of artistic creation
like butterflies upon the page.
Echos of the witness of the birth of “idea”
Creation and expression molded into oneness
Faculties distant and drifting through time
Seeking a thought to cling to
Spinning out of control like a kite in a storm
Spiraling down into dreary thoughts
and lost in the refuse of the mind.
Still, nothing comes.
09/07/2003 Posted on 09/07/2003
Copyright © 2024 Brian Francis
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by JD Clay on 09/07/03 at 07:15 PM It seems as though your muse has been working under cover. You've captured it's essence at any rate. Good stuff, Brian.
Peace... |
| Posted by David R Spellman on 09/08/03 at 02:05 PM You capture so much of the writing process here, reminding me of the many unfinished works and notes scattered on several pages accumulated over the years. Very well done. |
| Posted by Quentin S Clingerman on 09/08/03 at 06:35 PM Ahhh, but I think the cauldron is boiling. And it is not a witch's brew! :) You've written enough in this poem to give the muse plenty to do! |
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