Writer's Block

Writer's Block

A Poem by Nothing Personal
"

on it

"
What should I do when I realize
That my brain is not
An ocean of thoughts,
A realm of possibilities,
Where I could set sail,
Embark,
On a voyage of discovery and possible contentment.

But a shallow lake which gets bone dry
On hot, sweltering summers, so that
There is a hint of salt and a thin layer of evaporites,
Left until it rains again
"God knows when".

When I had picked the pen,
You did not forewarn me at all
And look now what you have done
You careless Ambition, You mad Desire.
I am engulfed in a total eclipse
All I've got is dark shadows and faint dusk.

There are ideas and there are words
But there is the endless sea between them
Which I know I cannot swim across.
You did not teach me how to swim,
I cannot improvise when I know I can drown
Nor did my emaciated, starved soul
Possess the stride for such an adventure.

There were times and there were hours,
In the past , sans nombre
When frustration was a dear friend of mine.
I asked him to sit with me
Greeted him with warm coffee
And a chocolate cookie.
And chatted with him ,
Away
Until he said "It's late, I gotta go".

These days he won't come for that coffee
He's too wise you see.
Instead he would sneak in through the backdoor of my house
And hide in my bedroom closet
And finally into my comforter on my bed.

I cannot go to office now,
I do not go to office now,
I need to be sick and unwell,
I need to write real good .
I was hoping Kapka Kassabova
Would be my greek goddess tonight
And teach me how to love when I write
And how to write when I love.

She could warn me not to be haunted
By a past which I have not seen
Ancient civilizations where I and She
Were estranged lovers who never met.

Why don't I take the public bus
On a cloudy and chilly day in Texas
Wait for it,
And watch the cars rush by me on the highway.
It would take me to an abode of ideas
To Himalayas of thoughts
And build me a bridge of pebbles
Somewhere in the sea.

I may only have two hours now
Or Three if I don't eat or take the shower
But I could and I should head home
Where it rains and it drizzles;
Droplets on my bare skin and toes
Which feels oceans beneath my feet.
Slowly.

I should keep walking faster and faster
Till beads of sweat on my chin and my throat
Become indistinguishable from the rain.
And add to that riveting flow
A drop in the Ocean
Where you all come to swim.


© Nothing Personal. December 22, 2010.

© 2011 Nothing Personal


Author's Note

Nothing Personal
The poem is deeper than title, I assure you all

My Review

Would you like to review this Poem?
Login | Register




Featured Review

again another fantastic write! i love the humor you slot into it. it makes it come alive a more. not that it needs any help! wow, truly inspirational writing!
"There were times and there were hours,
In the past , sans nombre
When frustration was a dear friend of mine.
I asked him to sit with me
Greeted him with warm coffee
And a chocolate cookie.
And chatted with him ,
Away
Until he said "It's late, I gotta go"."

Posted 13 Years Ago


2 of 2 people found this review constructive.




Reviews

Awesome write!! Ilove your opening stanzas. They are soooo me! LOL.
What should I do when I realize
That my brain is not
An ocean of thoughts,
A realm of possibilities.....
....But a shallow lake which gets bone dry

So me and so funny! And as for the whole idea of having coffee with frustration - Genious! Absolutely love this poem. Such creativity born out of the frustration of writers block.

Posted 13 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

This is amazing! The imagery is spectacular, I got a great picture in my head. It's a great example of the intense battles in minds of people when they're disappointed. That's what happened to me last night. I completely relate. Also, the emotion you set in this, I felt it really easily. The feeling of frustration and disappointment filled the words. Great job, Bravo!

Posted 13 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Smashing. At once brutally direct and self-ironic - I like it.
You speak both of and to every single poet and author ever, from those the world pays ecstatic homage to faltering first timers.

Posted 13 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

again another fantastic write! i love the humor you slot into it. it makes it come alive a more. not that it needs any help! wow, truly inspirational writing!
"There were times and there were hours,
In the past , sans nombre
When frustration was a dear friend of mine.
I asked him to sit with me
Greeted him with warm coffee
And a chocolate cookie.
And chatted with him ,
Away
Until he said "It's late, I gotta go"."

Posted 13 Years Ago


2 of 2 people found this review constructive.

One of your best...the title is definitely ironic. Keep writing! You'll make an poem someday.

Posted 13 Years Ago


1 of 2 people found this review constructive.

not much critisism i can really give you on this at all. It had amazing expression, and imagery. One for my favorites!:)

Posted 13 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

This is so deep. I love it, thanks for sharing :)

Posted 13 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

a very enjoyable read and it really got me thinking. Amazing peice.

Posted 13 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

This is amazing and beautifully executed. Well done!

Posted 13 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

[send message][befriend] Subscribe
.
. i agree with em ... can't say it that well though ... if you can write about writer's block, then, in my humble opinion, you already transcended the block ... very often i am torn apart while reviewing a poem about writer's block ... there's one side of the world that wants to write but the content is not that easily apparent ... and another side ... where i live ... where writing is a need ... if i didn't express ... i'd end up living in silence ... for all other opportunities of expression are not available to me ... em is the only person i speak to on the phone ... i meet no one ... except pigeons, squirrels, the sun, the moon, stars, insects ... between my room and the terrace ... i don't suffer from writer's block ... because my words are all i've got ... the only evidence of the fact that i am alive ...

Posted 13 Years Ago



Share This
Email
Facebook
Twitter
Request Read Request
Add to Library My Library
Subscribe Subscribe


Stats

2192 Views
63 Reviews
Rating
Shelved in 8 Libraries
Added on December 22, 2010
Last Updated on March 12, 2011
Tags: Writer's block, drying words, Patience

Author

Nothing Personal
Nothing Personal

TX



About
Hi !! I don't fuss too much about sharing a name or an identity. I came across this website and found it to be an interesting niche for writers without distinctive labels. It is a great place to befri.. more..

Writing

Related Writing

People who liked this story also liked..


Nocturne Nocturne

A Poem by OT


Checkmate Checkmate

A Poem by OT