Poe's Curse

With inspiration bruised, I cannot write

My muse goes lost in a maze

My mind in a cloud, I've lost my sight

My words go missing for days

My mutinous quill suffers in pain

As my words lie just out of reach

My reason to write will always remain

As I struggle to fasten this breach

The silent winds now sing to my heart

As a callus forms on my mind

My words so confused, refusing to start

They're almost impossible to find

Blameless, I sit and wait for redemption

Reprobate of things to come

I silently pray as I ask for exemption

Knowing it's granted to some

'Tis certain a phantom, banned from the light

Feeding his ungodly verse

For years to come all the things that I write

Will simply be known as Poe's curse

Reviews

[Heather Clayton]

I did a paper on Poe once and yes, he had problems, but your poem captures this. Wondering if he had any writer's block, hehe.

[Marie]

Poe had a lot of issues, but he was a great writer. The poem is heartfelt.