writer's block

a poet's reflection of his affliction

I must warn that this is an experiment by yours truly because there are things that my mind cannot fully explain. They are too great or my writting abilities are too small but nevertheless i cannot describe them appropriately. I musst make haste in this column's creation if i want this idea to live long enough to be recorded.among those is writer's block a disease that hits us writer's every now and then putting a weight on our head, unbearable. as if our hands are shackled away from the nearest pen, away from the farthest of paper, away from the need to create our art. a weight, no not that, that cannot explain it.it is the worst of traps the kind that kills not one's body but one's soul. Even still i do not feel that satisfaction of a well placed word, fellow poets' writers, i write to you with writer's block hanging over me, like a cloud over a field. worst still is that there is no pill to be taken no inoculation yet invented that can cure me, there is not a therapy to free me. there is only time and hope that these hands can again create a poem, but for now a coulumn can weaken this hunger for verse. Good news are in order i feel again the heart of a poet after a year without a word posted, just today an idea came ( which is how this column came to be) a new poem of mine shall be born. i however cannot feel freed of this plague until my work is complete. But days shall have to go by, my writting is slow and maticulous nevertheless i feel my heart beating my blood coursing... my poetry living.