Poems About Writers Block Published by Members Recently Online
#WritersBlock
PAR
Poem Published
20th Dec 2024 11:46am
20th Dec 2024 11:46am
About Her for Her and with Her
Her is her, in the quiet hours of dawn.
A whisper in the stillness, a breath of the morning air.
Her presence is a thread in the tapestry of time
weaving patterns of herself and fragments of others.
In the mirror, Her sees reflections,
not just one own, but countless faces.
Each gaze a story, each smile a secret,
Her identity shifts, dances, in the fluidity of moments.
Her walks the path of many,
one's steps echoing in the lives of others,
adopting roles, shedding skins, becoming more than one.
Yet in Her heart, there...
A whisper in the stillness, a breath of the morning air.
Her presence is a thread in the tapestry of time
weaving patterns of herself and fragments of others.
In the mirror, Her sees reflections,
not just one own, but countless faces.
Each gaze a story, each smile a secret,
Her identity shifts, dances, in the fluidity of moments.
Her walks the path of many,
one's steps echoing in the lives of others,
adopting roles, shedding skins, becoming more than one.
Yet in Her heart, there...
#LifeAsAWriter
#mirror
#MyInspiration
#WritersBlock
#WritingPoetry
70 reads
14 Comments
PAR
Poem Published
20th Dec 2024 11:46am
20th Dec 2024 11:46am
About Her for Her and with Her
Her is her, in the quiet hours of dawn.
A whisper in the stillness, a breath of the morning air.
Her presence is a thread in the tapestry of time
weaving patterns of herself and fragments of others.
In the mirror, Her sees reflections,
not just one own, but countless faces.
Each gaze a story, each smile a secret,
Her identity shifts, dances, in the fluidity of moments.
Her walks the path of many,
one's steps echoing in the lives of others,
adopting roles, shedding skins, becoming more than one.
Yet in Her heart, there...
A whisper in the stillness, a breath of the morning air.
Her presence is a thread in the tapestry of time
weaving patterns of herself and fragments of others.
In the mirror, Her sees reflections,
not just one own, but countless faces.
Each gaze a story, each smile a secret,
Her identity shifts, dances, in the fluidity of moments.
Her walks the path of many,
one's steps echoing in the lives of others,
adopting roles, shedding skins, becoming more than one.
Yet in Her heart, there...
#LifeAsAWriter
#mirror
#MyInspiration
#WritersBlock
#WritingPoetry
70 reads
14 Comments
PAR
Poem Published
20th Dec 2024 11:46am
20th Dec 2024 11:46am
About Her for Her and with Her
Her is her, in the quiet hours of dawn.
A whisper in the stillness, a breath of the morning air.
Her presence is a thread in the tapestry of time
weaving patterns of herself and fragments of others.
In the mirror, Her sees reflections,
not just one own, but countless faces.
Each gaze a story, each smile a secret,
Her identity shifts, dances, in the fluidity of moments.
Her walks the path of many,
one's steps echoing in the lives of others,
adopting roles, shedding skins, becoming more than one.
Yet in Her heart, there...
A whisper in the stillness, a breath of the morning air.
Her presence is a thread in the tapestry of time
weaving patterns of herself and fragments of others.
In the mirror, Her sees reflections,
not just one own, but countless faces.
Each gaze a story, each smile a secret,
Her identity shifts, dances, in the fluidity of moments.
Her walks the path of many,
one's steps echoing in the lives of others,
adopting roles, shedding skins, becoming more than one.
Yet in Her heart, there...
#LifeAsAWriter
#mirror
#MyInspiration
#WritersBlock
#WritingPoetry
70 reads
14 Comments
PAR
Poem Published
20th Dec 2024 11:46am
20th Dec 2024 11:46am
About Her for Her and with Her
Her is her, in the quiet hours of dawn.
A whisper in the stillness, a breath of the morning air.
Her presence is a thread in the tapestry of time
weaving patterns of herself and fragments of others.
In the mirror, Her sees reflections,
not just one own, but countless faces.
Each gaze a story, each smile a secret,
Her identity shifts, dances, in the fluidity of moments.
Her walks the path of many,
one's steps echoing in the lives of others,
adopting roles, shedding skins, becoming more than one.
Yet in Her heart, there...
A whisper in the stillness, a breath of the morning air.
Her presence is a thread in the tapestry of time
weaving patterns of herself and fragments of others.
In the mirror, Her sees reflections,
not just one own, but countless faces.
Each gaze a story, each smile a secret,
Her identity shifts, dances, in the fluidity of moments.
Her walks the path of many,
one's steps echoing in the lives of others,
adopting roles, shedding skins, becoming more than one.
Yet in Her heart, there...
#LifeAsAWriter
#mirror
#MyInspiration
#WritersBlock
#WritingPoetry
70 reads
14 Comments
PAR
Poem Published
20th Dec 2024 11:46am
20th Dec 2024 11:46am
About Her for Her and with Her
Her is her, in the quiet hours of dawn.
A whisper in the stillness, a breath of the morning air.
Her presence is a thread in the tapestry of time
weaving patterns of herself and fragments of others.
In the mirror, Her sees reflections,
not just one own, but countless faces.
Each gaze a story, each smile a secret,
Her identity shifts, dances, in the fluidity of moments.
Her walks the path of many,
one's steps echoing in the lives of others,
adopting roles, shedding skins, becoming more than one.
Yet in Her heart, there...
A whisper in the stillness, a breath of the morning air.
Her presence is a thread in the tapestry of time
weaving patterns of herself and fragments of others.
In the mirror, Her sees reflections,
not just one own, but countless faces.
Each gaze a story, each smile a secret,
Her identity shifts, dances, in the fluidity of moments.
Her walks the path of many,
one's steps echoing in the lives of others,
adopting roles, shedding skins, becoming more than one.
Yet in Her heart, there...
#LifeAsAWriter
#mirror
#MyInspiration
#WritersBlock
#WritingPoetry
70 reads
14 Comments
MidnightSonneteer
Poem Published
8th Jun 2023 6:09pm
8th Jun 2023 6:09pm
Manuscript Musings
Yesterday my mind was a blank.
I suffered a writer's dead calm.
But now thought waves begin to stir
and I think I know who to thank.
A stack of books served as a balm,
along with our pussycat's purr,
and some recent rain played a part.
This fresh ambience serves me well
and wards away melancholy.
I'll have no thoughts cruel or tart
nor a vainglorious head swell
serving to augment my folly.
Melancholy for the poet
is necessary I suppose,
but I like to keep it in check;
those streams of bad...
I suffered a writer's dead calm.
But now thought waves begin to stir
and I think I know who to thank.
A stack of books served as a balm,
along with our pussycat's purr,
and some recent rain played a part.
This fresh ambience serves me well
and wards away melancholy.
I'll have no thoughts cruel or tart
nor a vainglorious head swell
serving to augment my folly.
Melancholy for the poet
is necessary I suppose,
but I like to keep it in check;
those streams of bad...
#WritersBlock
#LifeAsAWriter
#WritingPoetry #reading
#WritingPoetry #reading
157 reads
2 Comments
MidnightSonneteer
Poem Published
8th Jun 2023 6:09pm
8th Jun 2023 6:09pm
Manuscript Musings
Yesterday my mind was a blank.
I suffered a writer's dead calm.
But now thought waves begin to stir
and I think I know who to thank.
A stack of books served as a balm,
along with our pussycat's purr,
and some recent rain played a part.
This fresh ambience serves me well
and wards away melancholy.
I'll have no thoughts cruel or tart
nor a vainglorious head swell
serving to augment my folly.
Melancholy for the poet
is necessary I suppose,
but I like to keep it in check;
those streams of bad...
I suffered a writer's dead calm.
But now thought waves begin to stir
and I think I know who to thank.
A stack of books served as a balm,
along with our pussycat's purr,
and some recent rain played a part.
This fresh ambience serves me well
and wards away melancholy.
I'll have no thoughts cruel or tart
nor a vainglorious head swell
serving to augment my folly.
Melancholy for the poet
is necessary I suppose,
but I like to keep it in check;
those streams of bad...
#WritersBlock
#LifeAsAWriter
#WritingPoetry #reading
#WritingPoetry #reading
157 reads
2 Comments
MidnightSonneteer
Poem Published
8th Jun 2023 6:09pm
8th Jun 2023 6:09pm
Manuscript Musings
Yesterday my mind was a blank.
I suffered a writer's dead calm.
But now thought waves begin to stir
and I think I know who to thank.
A stack of books served as a balm,
along with our pussycat's purr,
and some recent rain played a part.
This fresh ambience serves me well
and wards away melancholy.
I'll have no thoughts cruel or tart
nor a vainglorious head swell
serving to augment my folly.
Melancholy for the poet
is necessary I suppose,
but I like to keep it in check;
those streams of bad...
I suffered a writer's dead calm.
But now thought waves begin to stir
and I think I know who to thank.
A stack of books served as a balm,
along with our pussycat's purr,
and some recent rain played a part.
This fresh ambience serves me well
and wards away melancholy.
I'll have no thoughts cruel or tart
nor a vainglorious head swell
serving to augment my folly.
Melancholy for the poet
is necessary I suppose,
but I like to keep it in check;
those streams of bad...
#WritersBlock
#LifeAsAWriter
#WritingPoetry #reading
#WritingPoetry #reading
157 reads
2 Comments
MidnightSonneteer
Poem Published
8th Jun 2023 6:09pm
8th Jun 2023 6:09pm
Manuscript Musings
Yesterday my mind was a blank.
I suffered a writer's dead calm.
But now thought waves begin to stir
and I think I know who to thank.
A stack of books served as a balm,
along with our pussycat's purr,
and some recent rain played a part.
This fresh ambience serves me well
and wards away melancholy.
I'll have no thoughts cruel or tart
nor a vainglorious head swell
serving to augment my folly.
Melancholy for the poet
is necessary I suppose,
but I like to keep it in check;
those streams of bad...
I suffered a writer's dead calm.
But now thought waves begin to stir
and I think I know who to thank.
A stack of books served as a balm,
along with our pussycat's purr,
and some recent rain played a part.
This fresh ambience serves me well
and wards away melancholy.
I'll have no thoughts cruel or tart
nor a vainglorious head swell
serving to augment my folly.
Melancholy for the poet
is necessary I suppose,
but I like to keep it in check;
those streams of bad...
#WritersBlock
#LifeAsAWriter
#WritingPoetry #reading
#WritingPoetry #reading
157 reads
2 Comments
deliabear
Debbie
Debbie
Poem Published
1st Dec 2023 2:11am
1st Dec 2023 2:11am
The Perfect Poem
Ah, the perfect poem.
Does it occur when you are sufficiently stoned?
Or when the agony begins to bloat?
Or when in cherry blood, joy floats?
Lies eloquently disguise truths.
Truth promenades as lies.
Poetic words speak to the roots that keep us alive.
Should it provoke intricate questions of the soul?
As landmines of resonance fill our holes.
Does it occur when you are sufficiently stoned?
Or when the agony begins to bloat?
Or when in cherry blood, joy floats?
Lies eloquently disguise truths.
Truth promenades as lies.
Poetic words speak to the roots that keep us alive.
Should it provoke intricate questions of the soul?
As landmines of resonance fill our holes.
#WritersBlock
#PowerOfWords
167 reads
6 Comments
deliabear
Debbie
Debbie
Poem Published
1st Dec 2023 2:11am
1st Dec 2023 2:11am
The Perfect Poem
Ah, the perfect poem.
Does it occur when you are sufficiently stoned?
Or when the agony begins to bloat?
Or when in cherry blood, joy floats?
Lies eloquently disguise truths.
Truth promenades as lies.
Poetic words speak to the roots that keep us alive.
Should it provoke intricate questions of the soul?
As landmines of resonance fill our holes.
Does it occur when you are sufficiently stoned?
Or when the agony begins to bloat?
Or when in cherry blood, joy floats?
Lies eloquently disguise truths.
Truth promenades as lies.
Poetic words speak to the roots that keep us alive.
Should it provoke intricate questions of the soul?
As landmines of resonance fill our holes.
#WritersBlock
#PowerOfWords
167 reads
6 Comments
ImperfectedStone
The Gardener
The Gardener
Poem Published
25th Jun 2023 8:51pm
25th Jun 2023 8:51pm
Rest
Somedays words are oblivion,
tasteless, dehydrated -
as hollow as empty air
and I can't make them mean more,
make them rain,
make them meet
where the birch
untangles her hair
and dangles it
over a river for baptising
instead I lay out
on a thorn-grass field,
let my flesh go dry in the sun,
larynx along with her
and imagine never speaking
nor rising again.
tasteless, dehydrated -
as hollow as empty air
and I can't make them mean more,
make them rain,
make them meet
where the birch
untangles her hair
and dangles it
over a river for baptising
instead I lay out
on a thorn-grass field,
let my flesh go dry in the sun,
larynx along with her
and imagine never speaking
nor rising again.
#rain
#WritersBlock
#illness #sleep
#illness #sleep
168 reads
1 Comment
DU Poetry : Poems About Writers Block Published by Members Recently Online
