Help! I am without words!
The cursor blinks at me
on a page as pristine
as it was an hour a go.
The voices in my head
have gone silent.
Where is the brilliance
that won’t let me sleep,
the verses that have me
running to my journal?
Surely the cliché of the
well running dry
has not become my actuality.
Yet I find myself covered
in ineptitude’s dust.
I pray inspiration’s rain
is in the forecast for tomorrow,
not more days without imagination.
There needs to be an end to
this writer’s drought.
The cursor blinks at me
on a page as pristine
as it was an hour a go.
The voices in my head
have gone silent.
Where is the brilliance
that won’t let me sleep,
the verses that have me
running to my journal?
Surely the cliché of the
well running dry
has not become my actuality.
Yet I find myself covered
in ineptitude’s dust.
I pray inspiration’s rain
is in the forecast for tomorrow,
not more days without imagination.
There needs to be an end to
this writer’s drought.
©Susie Clevenger 2011
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