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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
A poem about writing and it's struggles

Submitted: February 10, 2017

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Submitted: February 10, 2017



I have writer’s block.

I can’t write, it’s too quiet

The shadows are too loud

It’s too cold or hot or I’m numb.

Nothing can be found

My mind’s dammed up

The small streams coming out

Are no help, I’ve seen them before

Last week if I remember correctly.

There’s too much going on

I have no inspiration, no vocation

My ADD has kicked in

All I can think about

Is the song I heard yesterday

Or maybe last month

I can’t remember, I just know

I can’t write anything

To save my life

If I had to I’d be at the noose

Ready for the floor to fall

And the rope to pull taunt

I have writer’s block but

Somehow I still sit at this paper

Trying to flow my words

Do I need to rhyme or

Change my rhythm to please

The turning minds of

Teenagers everywhere?

Should I make the lines longer and more eloquent or shorten them to one


They tell me that poems

Can be all I want them to be

But how is that comforting?

I have all the English words

At my disposal but none work

In a way that makes me proud

I want to publish all that I can

But how do I know which words

Will grab ahold of the nearest person’s heart strings?

Do I know?

Is this what I should be doing?

The doubt, the fear, the pain

The words jump off the page

And sometimes they hurt me.

They make me bleed, in ways I didn’t think they could

When I can’t write, it’s too much

I had an idea

Right before I fell asleep,

But the sleep came, the dreams I never remember

Along with that idea I won’t see for another decade

Or maybe ever again

Sometimes writer’s feel like they should just stop

But if we stop

We’ll never get past

Our writer’s block. 

© Copyright 2018 A. L. Sivils. All rights reserved.

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