I don’t seem to have a poetic word left in me.
Its disturbing for I thought I could find one
When the urge took me that way.
I’ve discovered there’s no point fighting it
After all if its not there, its not there.
I’ve looked at the blogs I follow
There’s wonderful verse about flowers, pots,
Landscapes and the brave folk who look to discover themselves.
There are pieces of prose I cannot but admire
But me there is in these recent days nothing is forth coming.
Writing goes like this.
Its like a drought of creative thought.
I have to sit and let the words come again.
I’m reminded of a cartoon I saw recently,
A man receives a box from Ikea
On the box is written “The Latest Blockbuster Novel”
Inside he finds the box is full of letters,
My mind is like that at present.
So the rest of you keep up the wonderful work
I look forward to reading your words
As I struggle to assemble mine.