When my thoughts keep circling round my head
When I get tired just lying in my bed
When I feel lost with all the things I’ve had
There’s no new pain to show ’em
I don’t wanna write a poem
I stare at the page in front of me
And the blank page keeps staring back at me
While my old pen refuses to write for me
I feel like I don’t know ’em
I don’t wanna write a poem
Sometimes I laugh, sometimes I sit and cry
None of the times I have a reason why
All the ideas in my head just die
I’m too lazy to sow ’em
I don’t wanna write a poem
Sometimes I love, sometimes I hate my rhymes
I keep discarding my poems all the time
There should be a law to hang me for this crime
I should never throw ’em
But I don’t wanna write a poem
What a lovely poem! Thanks for sharing this.
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Do you feel like it’s been harder to express artistry through poetry during the pandemic because your processing so much emotion?
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In fact it is easier now!
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Jeez. Imagine if we’d be hung for that. There’s be no poetry then because …
I enjoyed reading. Thanks so much. You rock!
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Like failing prior to succeeding, the blank sheet won’t always be blank. Words will flow again. What I do, I write about the block as you have done and rest my head for a while.
It can be a way nature talk to you about rest. A little rest won’t hurt.
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Reblogged this on The Reluctant Poet.
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Ah yes! But it seems you wrote it anyway, Frank! 😉
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I think we have all been here before. Thanks for sharing this relatable feeling with us.
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So relatable🌿
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I wish you should not be hanged for the crime you have done. 😊
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You’ve penned this feeling splendidly. 👍🙂
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We all hit the writing wall at times, so sympathies.
Sometimes inspiration wont strike / Sometimes words won’t be prettily aligned / Sometimes the ol’ brain takes a hike / And don’t that do a number on your mind?
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