Writer's Whispers

Writer's block

I can't write a poem...

The feelings just aren't there,

The urges won't make their presence known.

//

I can't write a poem,

I'm not freaking out either,

Because I'm writing this

With an expressionless face.

//

I can't write right now

And it's a pity,

Because I've just wasted one hour

Pondering a topic.

It's a pity,

Because I've been very busy

And now,

When I give my inner poet

Some time,

He blanks out and

Takes a nap at my time's expenses.

//

I can't write a poem,

And it's not a great feeling to be honest.

So, I hope it wasn't just a phase,

Like my craze for basketball,

Or quickly dying passions

For hockey and squash.

I hope my inner poet

Is taking a nap

And not having a funeral -

His wordy body

Being confined to a coffin,

His hungry eyes, shut,

Taking no acknowledgement of

The people at his funeral...

His wordy body,

Slowly rotting away

As my teenage years tick away -

That I wasn't invited to.