Writer's Block

What you put in is what you get out...

 

The writer stared bleakly; his paper stared back.

With so much still yet to say, his fountainhead had lapsed.

Not a single line came, and not a drop of ink flowed;

He couldn’t seem to force his muse, nor her work of gold.

 

As his pen neared the parchment, it hovered in the air

Frozen by the specter that he might commit an error.

The specks of dust rallied as they leered up from the paper,

Which was so bland, so bleak, so blank - awaiting inky labors.

 

At last his broken heart did sigh, retiring his pen,

It seemed he had produced a perfect paper once again.

He heard the world so cruelly laugh at masters such as he

Who could own a pen as mute as this, or sheets that shan’t receive.

 

“Ah, cursed be the luck,” he thought, snatching up the page

And tossed it on a mound of those who shared an unmarred face.

 

 

Author's Note

This was an experiment. I generally avoid such strict rhyme schemes and metered writings because I typically lose a lot of my rich language and metaphors/double-meanings. This time, I took the time and produced about six or seven drafts; I'm very curious to get feedback as the poem seems to be a successful balance- maintaining the metered rhyme scheme without sacrificing its quality. Thanks for your review...

Reviews

[Markymark]

I love form. This works well and doesn't seem forced at all, anywhere, which is EXACTLY the way metered poetry should, it adds so much class to an otherwise mundane subject as writers block.

Great!

[J.E. Stroud]

I really like it, and empathize completely with the plight of the uninspired writer :(

[Legion]

Read well to me. You did a good job. I often have the same problem. I usually take my pens and use them as chopsticks when that happens. At least, I get some use out of them then. :) Kudos.