Writer’s Block

notepad_pen

 

When asked his most feared thing
Papa Hemingway replied – a blank sheet of paper
Today that same pale page is mine

Sappho wrote – What cannot be said, is wept
Yet nothing flows fluidly from my mind’s eye
My soul’s ambrosial reservoir unfilled

The Bard declared – The purpose of words is to give them away
So I am the beggar starving with a hunger to host
a wordthy banquet where all may gorge

But because Bukowski barked –
Writing about writer’s block is better than not writing at all
I offer nothing but these thoughts this day