Whilst I sit here
with pencil in hand,
all words disappear
as if written in sand.
Whilst I pace here
with something in mind,
pictures of a Cavalier
but words I cannot find.
Whilst I lay here,
in thoughts I am lost,
devoid of all cheer,
a most foul cost.
Whilst I stand here,
with words on the page,
my mind is so clear
freed from its cage.
Author notes
A short write about my stupid ongoing writers block. I feel as if my ability to put words together to form phrases is gone, as well as a large portion of my vocabulary.
"The point of Masamune protrudes from the heart of my muse."
Written June 15th, 2006
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