Writer's Block

Words well up inside
With no outlet they hide
Tired of fighting

Reduced to mere babble
Strangers unravel
With nothing inviting

So I try to unload
With poetry and prose
Hoping for enlightening

Where is my muse
Lost and abused
Poetic passion frightening

1 comment:

Vicky B said...

And yet, in poetry you succeed. The muse is there. He just needs to be teased forth from the darkened corners into the light.