Monday, May 12, 2008

nothing more pathetic than writing about writer's block

this static

is the grey-horrid
that makes
mash of minds,
lint for flint.

a muse out of
commission,
rehab/probation,
one forgets
what she's off of now.

I want to spew genius!
but all I bring up
is other people's corn.

6 comments:

Anonymous said...

don't force it. just let it comes when it comes.

and when it does, drop everything and let it flow :)

Crimson Shimmer said...

Oh there are definitely things more pathetic...

Like those who can read but cannot see ;)

1st time I'm at your poetry corner.
will be sure to keep tuned, i like your writing.

Just about gotten back also.
needed a place of my own, and where better to start than the internet, rent-free...

hope you've been keeping well
your old friend alien ;)

Anonymous said...

Laurie was a doctor
And a cannibal.

The Patient/ Poet’s nightmare
An empty crystal ball

The meals the cure!
We grieve and mourn

And celebrate
The Poet Laurie ate.

Anonymous said...

while you are looking at the white page of writer's block, i am sitting beside myself with the joy of discovery, while reading the depth of your genius...

thanks for sharing your creativity and silently inspiring the world. your words dance to the music of your soul.

david in Maine, USA

Anonymous said...

your writing is brilliant, it all takes time :) ... at least you have a nice book to read when you have writers block, and also need some humour to shut dog-boy up!

hope your bums better!

That Mash Guy said...

respect on the namecheck