Ode to Writers Block
What beauty is this, that lies sleeping near my heart?
‘Tis word—and word should tumble from my pen,
Not lie locked within the chamber dark and inky.
Where hides the key to free thee from thy prison?
Oh, lovely word, spring forth from the trap that is my mind,
Set thee down upon this paper, word.
Let me hold thee, and from thee let me form the dreams,
The hopes and fantasies that fill my eyes and blind me to all but thee,
Oh word! Fill my paper with thy bounteous delight,
As you fill my head with longing, and my wastebasket with scrap.
©2014 Connie J. Jasperson, All Rights Reserved