Is this it?

This poem is about the times when we wish to write but cannot because of lack of inspiration

Sitting with my pen and book

Thinking aloud all alone in my room

Pacing around looking for words to rhyme 

Not really inspired wondering why

Biting my fingers really tensed 

Wondering when all these will end

Imagining, searching for an inspiration 

Knowing my creation will come from my imagination 

Trying really hard to put something down

An idea comes to my head and then I think wow!

Excited I sit down to write 

But it vanishes, ideas, is this right?

I think harder again

This time it was successful which I gain

But coming to an end I stop thinking 

Saying out loud, is this it?

Author's Note

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