Friday, 31 July 2015

I object!

I would like to start this blog with an apology. To say sorry for the distinct lack of posts from myself on this blog of late. I have writers block, pure and simple. What is annoying me more than anything is the fact that when it comes round to a theme that I have chosen (such as this week for example), my brain still can't get itself into gear. It is seemingly on strike, saying "I object!". And that, dear readers, is about as close as I can get to making a connection with this weeks' theme. I deliberately choose theme's which are open to translation by the people who write on this blog. So they may pick one of the many ways it can be translated and run with it. It also means that there is more variety on each theme, instead of us all writing about the same thing. But even this hasn't helped me this time. To be honest, it's really getting me down.

So, I am going to share a poem I wrote (an oldie) that will give me hope that I will come through this writers block in the end. Ever the optimist, eh?


POETICAL STORM

I can sit and the words come effortlessly,
Floating by on the breeze in my mind,
Plucked down and written upon the page,
Flowing smoothly, sometimes too easily I find.

A moment later as I sit engrossed,
Enjoying this freshness of air,
The Ethereal atmosphere changes,
And threatens to drive me into despair.

Storm clouds have gathered unnoticed,
The breeze picks up speed to a Gale,
Words rushing by too rapidly,
Unable to pluck, I seem doomed to fail.

Whooshing and whirling confusedly,
My pen unable to keep up the pace,
I scribble what I can greedily,
Trying to scribe what I can in all haste.

Ever faster and faster the wind goes round,
Becoming a Maelstrom within my mind,
The words now completely no distinct,
Just a blur which makes me almost blind.

Then …… Nothing …… A stillness envelops me,
A vacuum where nothing can stir,
Not a wisp or a breath, all is blank,
No word or picture can incur.

My pen lies helplessly upon the notepad,
Arms limply down at my side,
The fingers twitching, waiting to start once again,
But from my mind all the words hide.

How long do I spend in this wretched place?
I don’t know, it’s too hard to tell,
Minutes, hours or days go by,
With nothing to break the barren spell!

But wait! What was that? No, but  …… yes it is!
A whisper floating gently by,
Patiently waiting for the right time,
To express its sweetest of sighs.

Softly, softly, the words now return,
Emerging and drifting along,
Finally, I resume my task gladly,
Plucking words to finish my song!


I am currently at verse 8, desperately waiting for verse 9 to kick in ..... but hey-ho! Patience, patience ... *Sighs*


Any-hoo! Thank you for bearing with me. I WILL get back to writing properly again. ;-) x


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