You can create towers of words when your heart is flying,
Twist turning tunnels of feeling when you are falling apart,
The very best words roll off of your pen without even trying,
But then comes, the dreaded block.
You cant turn right, look down, or move to left,
You are completely blocked, you begin to realize in shock.
You run about in your head, scrambling for ideas, all the while running out of breath.
This is the feeling of writers block, no idea flowing through your veins,
You get weak, you are blue and green, and you feel like this is the end.
Your spark has died, you have nothing left.of this you are convinced.
All hollowed out, you sit in your growing puddle of misery for who could understand?!
But then! yes THEN! you have it! in your sadness, which has turned into madness,
You feel a spark, a spark within that fills your soul, and brings back your magic!
With dramatic wording, and with complete lack concern for surroundings,
You write a poem, a terrible poem, painfully tragic.
You have done it again! with pen as shovel and paper as spade,
Once again having pulled through this awful time
Through the desolate dessert, you have found peaceful shade.
Add this to your credenza of forgotten things, for now with renewed passion you can truly shine.
-Keely