It's an empty page
a trace of white
we've all seen it
tasted it's sharp edges
and it stares back at you
with sightless eyes
a faceless flat sheet
talkin' to you
you exhale and lick your lips
nervously move your pen in hand
many thoughts flash
at the speed of light
yet nothing comes
this hungry pale creature
yearns for the taste of ink
mother's milk for life
only wants to live
for your words and thoughts
...alone
still you sit
...edgy
the page craves for the diet of you
it's actually singing to you
you can feel it!
you both want flesh to parchment
ink for blood between lovers
a mirrored dance in the night
naked breast to chest
what you don't know:
the blank is very good for you
it compels you...moves you
to places that you've never even dreamed of
"whispers in you ear"
finally your hand starts to move
it has a mind of it's own
white fibers blot and swell
under the weight of you
each word is another fork of food
every sentence-another course
the salad laughs at your attempt at humor
the wine is perfect
and the dessert completes this composition
finally...
the page shines and smiles
just like the little girl
that you've always loved
Author notes
The next time that you pick up the pen and nothing comes. Just think of me and you'll be all right. Let your hand relax! It's all there. -c
A contest entry
- Writer's Block by Desdmona.
600 points, ended March 27, 22 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 11 of 11
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I don't believe I've ever read a finer, lovelier, more descriptive piece about writer's block!
Uniquely done, dear. There is but one thing it contains which I fear. Or, more precisely, doesn't contain. That's flesh on flesh, finally at home & peace WITH another. The veils and mirrors are grand, no doubt, there's just no substitute.
Not even the finest piece.....of poetry........
ya All-Ways, ~ Jan ~
Keep coming!
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I do like the idea of comparing it to a loved woman as Arafura suggested and you have touched upon here. I'm might have to play with that because the last poem I tried writing about a blank page was as unrewarding!
My favourite line "tasted its sharp edges"
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" Each word is another fork of food" indeed it is, a calorific-free ingredient that we have ingested, mulled over and then added to the starched parchment of the page, the blank page is virgin territory, the pen presses to the page and within the silence, speaks the international language of poetry. Let the hand relax, cup inspiration in the palm of the hand and coddle, coax, entice the thrilling thrum of the point of creativity.
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I do believe that you have covered every move, thought and idea that comes to us when this happens. Very good. one typo- you should be your in "whispers in you ear"
I do that all the time.
Grading from 1-10 this is a solid 15
Joe
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Sadly;
he was deserted in the desert before dessert.
Other than that it was just like you knew what you were doin`...lol...good job...Bob 42
PS I hope it will be the last time that you spell
finally like you did.
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awww great write huni I hope this helped them to write... i hate writers block it proper shunts you and the self esteem lol xxx
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I love the food comparision and the meal. Gosh, it made me hungry and I'm a bit of a cook as well so that was nicely done. Overall I enjoyed it very much but I think it got stronger and better as you went along. The last line though seems a little off from the whole thing but I do like it. Good job and good luck. ~Des
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I think of you every time I start to write.
I love this, your words have captured the lonliness and frustration of writers block beautifully.
All the best...
Sue x
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What if it sneers at me just like the woman I love?
I guess the ink is then used to blur the picture?
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Damn fine and intriguing comment there!
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