Zilch

Zilch

 

Lavender petals sink,

With my soul aching

For a thought.

 

Anything would appease me

A sentence,

A word,

A syllable.

 

Yet nothing comes to mind

As blank as this paper

I search for the spark

 

Where is my inner fire?

I used to burn so hot

You could roast marshmallows on my stanzas,

Now I am as cool as ice.

 

My fingers dance

Across the keyboard

My waltz has turned into hip hop

I find my groove thing is shaken out.

 

My changed tune

Screeches across the page,

Please don’t recoil from my broken serenade.

 

My mission

To mend.

If only I could recapture my friend,

Sweet inspiration.

 

 

Author's Note

a poem about not being able to write...yes this is what it has come to.

Reviews

[Daniel Atkinson]

Yeah, unfortunately mostly everyone knows what this feels like. I guess inspiration from not having inspiration is still inspiration.

...That's a little confusing, but you get my point. Nice work.