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I find again the ink near blot.
Tiss hard to find a poet's thought.
Should words arise in labor's pain,
Ill then, to find it all in vain.
For on my quill, a writer's curse.
Beauty, death, decay and verse.
Delivered, naught a poet's child
But strings of words, jumbled, reviled.
The afterbirth and barren teats,
The paper penned, just bloody sheets.

after many weeks of not being able to write a word....m.e.
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m.e. -_ You said "open sesame" to brick wall, facing you.It split open, leading you to this beautiful poem! -_ Abe
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Strong, excellently worded unique poem - I've certainly experienced this, and you have put the feeling into words better than I ever could have! From a barren season, such a rich fruit! R.J.G.
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excellent description--window watcher
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m.e.,we all have those "dry" times and then the dam bursts and things you never though would gel, do. I'm in a creative writing class and one of the exercises is to write 3(ugh) pages of free thought when you get up in the morning. It's to help writer's block. Also a good book is The Artist's Way" by Cameron. This poem is a gem and I love the last line.Jane
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m.e. ~ Do you keep a journal for ideas, etc., as they occur to you. It can be a green Oasis, in a mental drought! ~ Ben
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thanks all for the great "block" buster ideas! I haven't done any of that to date...but will take the good advice amd begin to do so..m.e.