Writers Block by Caspian Hedberg

Words.

Useless
As they sit inside me,
Stuck,
Clogged,
Unable to break out
And make themselves heard.
 …………
Murmuring and buzzing in my solar plexus,
Revolving around some unknown axis,
Embodying the surge of potential energy,
But potential is nothing unless fulfilled.
 …………
Sing me a song oh words!
-Incomprehensible splutter replies-
A dry wheeze then swallowed gloop.
……… Nothing.
…………
Thoughts of grandeur crushed,
Where have you gone my little sycophant?
Am I worthy of your endeavours no more?
Well so be it.
I shall go this alone
…………
I don’t need a seed to sow,
I shall build my own tree.
A few bits of paper soaked in ink,
That should do.
…………
Now to just keep adding more and watch it grow.
It may not be delicate and full of natural beauty,
But there it stands crooked and dripping,
And even if the sight may be crippling,
I have beaten you writers block,
And that was my duty.

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Filed under Caspian Hedberg, Poetry, Prose

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