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It's about that time,
for a new production, a new revelation,
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I read their poems on the screen that cursed glass reflection of myself.
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words drop ink blots, dripping from my pen
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One moment please……. One moment please………….
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I sat there, in my writer’s chair With my writer’s pen
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She puts all her poems in bottles for the sea for the sake of her sanity
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How can you write when words refuse to flow Inside you hide the things you need to say
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Exactly How I Feel By: The Red Cat Jazz of Love
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When mind is quiet, I'll be gone;
no search for words to egg me on,
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The best way to beat writer's block is to simply write about it.
Pick up your pen and write down how frustrated you are that
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Show me Elusively bewitching Muse
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I severed the sonnets and songs unsung . . .
But now dull memories only shine in my head.
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Paper crumbled beside me,
fingers tugging at hair;
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The words left me, slow and then hasted Truly speechless and equally wasted
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Writer's Block..
How can this be
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Ashes gray and glowing red
Too awake to go to bed
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I found a quill
Someone struck me hard, I bled
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I'm having problems writing and rhyming
I'm having problems with ideas
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pen touches paper
and yet i find that i have
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For love and pain are
But one, the same muse.
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Words depart,
with not a back glance.
by rainz3d
27 lines,
on Mar 9 6:17 AM 2008. In Sad, Happy, Writer's Block, Rhyme, Thoughts, Dark, Hope, Message, Loss, Dedication
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I've been trying so hard to write,
but the words are just not flowing.
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Don't you hate
When the pen won't write
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Bah!
More drivel across my page...
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I would use this page / to write a poem / but there is a monster / inside my head / called / BLOCK / and I cannot work / with his crunching / so teacher, / that is my excuse / for a blank page.
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Pen poised / Lamp Angled / Extra paper by my side / A glass of milk / Seated comfortably / Expired inspiration / / Inspecting the surround
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ack. me+writer'sblock=thisshit
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Been sitting at the computer for hours Staring at the white unblinking screen
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Writer’s block is such an ugly thing
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Bright daughter of moonlight and music, child of whispers and sighs,
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The ink keeps flowing But words do not
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In the bleeding depths of my heart is pain from the thing which I depart
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All thoughts are grey menaces; all words, rusty fetters. Who ties these disparate elements together?
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Like a breath of fresh air it sweeps across my mind
Leaving me breathless and constantly trying to find
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Ah, the joys of writer's block...
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