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Don Moore Feb 2018
When no one is looking, words burst from my head
Inside my skull are colours, scents and sounds
And my life is played out to a relentless sonorous soundtrack

Sometimes the music collapses with waves of resonance
And in others it is plucked like strings, individual and soft
It’s perceived by my inner ear, it’s not for others to hear

When I am out of sight, I’m truly at my very best
For life is like a swirling whirl of different shades
Different shapes and forms, some almost difficult to perceive

I try to put these on paper, shape the thoughts that I have
But the best, these arrive in the depth of the gloom
And in the early morning, they are once again forgotten

These words that slip through the fingers of my recollection
Flowing with the brightest of sparks, glowing embers of ideas
Impressions lost in the falling mornings sunlight

In front of my keyboard I then sit, puzzled chin in hand
Fingers tap the keys and yet nothing of excellence appears
So another day, with the words remaining inside my head
Jessica Jan 2018
I want to write
I feel this so truly, so deeply,
It stifles most other feelings in my stomach, so

Why don't the words just come to me
Why is the feeling so hard to express
I can feel it in my chest, now, dying to get out
And yet the words just don't come they stay locked in my head, a jumble of letters and phrases that just don't match up
This isn't even poetry, it's just a mismatched fantasy, and I'm doing my best to follow along but I'm getting lost along the rabbit trail of my own consciousness.
So... I keep trying. I keep writing. And maybe someday I'll be able to keep up.
we put our hands in his trash
he is
nasty
in
plastic to
hey david
*****
you
we
heard
him crying
he said he was
an paper
nah
?

















...
..
.
getting my block on
we have been reading and blocking
not that it mstters
but
but
but
Ivan Brooks Sr Jan 2018
Time is of the essence
And against the timeline of deliverance,
I have struggled to focus
Which isn't normal because
I have a special deadline
For something destined for my timeline.
It's a masterpiece I have to write.
If the universe plants words in the constellation
And blesses each poet through his imagination,
why then is my diction so quiet,
And where are you dear inspiration?
Please rescue me in my time of desperation.
Kindly tell the poetic overlords
  That I ran out of words
Tell them I'm in a limbo and it *****
I need a solution that works
because all boils down to the mechanical wall clock
Held hostage by this episode of writer's block.

#IvanBrooksPoetry©️
Dr fab and team await me but here I am...the struggle to get that piece delivered birthed this piece on writer's block.
Star BG Jan 2018
Though black and white type
colors of words emerge
infused within vivid fields a plenty.
Where eyes can roll around
making face smile and mind wonder.
Where trees blossom even in winter
and verse merges with birds who sing.

Through black and white type
doorways to freedom open
as eyes read as if with dancing feet.
Where time can dissipate
and self can rest.
Where inside ones own home
they can travel
to highways of creative jargon.

Through black and white text
a poem is born.
Crying out to reader who will gather.
Born to lighten eyes and carry heart
to a new prospective inside time.
Just thought of how we as writers. type on black and white keys but they are packed with words of color. LOL
Leeann Jan 2018
my words are stuck
in a box
my thoughts, my ideas, squared up
neatly into rectangles and angular shapes
trapped and docile
i
want
to
break
out

of this box

let
me
out

let my ideas flow and my mind run wild
let them gallop and scream and cry and laugh
so my thoughts will never stop

break me free from the monotony
of these cardboard wings
these steel appendages
these binding safety bars

let me OUT of this box

please
writer's block really *****
Crystal Freda Jan 2018
Her pen strayed on the paper.
Not a word to be penned
Her thoughts were blank
as with the paper would blend.

She sat and sat.
She wondered and wondered.
Her heart was trying
but her mind was plundered.

She would attempt for hours
but nothing would come.
Not even a slice,
not even a crumb.

She would eat, think,
and stressfully walk.
She couldn't find a cure
for her writer's block.
Marya0324 Jan 2018
I have no more words left in me
I can't find any new story
Where did they go? Are they all used?
I can't help but feel confused.

When did they fly so far away?
I can't quite remember the day.
All I know is that I can't write
Like before- when it felt so right.

Now it feels weird to attempt it
I'm searching for words that don't fit
I'm looking for poems that I can't find
In my lost, perplexed maze of a mind.
Writer's block.
Star BG Jan 2018
The worse block a writer has is the block made by one thinking they have a block.



**

Open that dam of words, only you have the power.
Get out of the head and into the heart and let it flow.
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