Damn you, blank page, What are you thinking?
No words appear, cursor silently blinking.
No idea explosions, no inspirations rock me
Pristinely, emptily, blankly – you mock me.
Where are you, muse? Hiding again?
I thought we were buddies, I judged you a friend.
You leave me here struggling, digging so deep
That I pack it all in and try for some sleep.
Deep in the night, an idea – inspiration!
I fire up the laptop, forget trepidation.
The words will come spilling, tumbling out
I’ll finish this work, a Masterpiece, no doubt!
Wait. Stop, Idea. Where are you going?
Muse, get back here – There’s no brilliance showing.
My elation’s short-lived, my confidence sinking
There on the blank page, a lone cursor blinking.
Damn you blank page.
What was I thinking?
Advertisements
Pretty good for a blank page 🙂
This is what happens when I try to write while medicated.
I find it so amusing how much we writers write about writing! I think I have 100 poems that echo your very sentiments here. Mine, however, are less witty and never use such excellent rhyme scheme! I usually skip over poems about writing, but very much enjoyed this one! 🙂
Yes, we do get a little obsessed, I’d say. Thanks for stopping in, I’ll check out your blog, as well.
Ah, must have been invisible ink on that blank page You used the lemon juice and light bulb expertly!
It is amazing to me how disdainfully that page looks at me!
Writing about not writing should be a genre, Or is it?
Definitely should be. Let’s research.
The Blankist School…i like it. continue…
Continue the blank page?
Oh the blank page. Everybody’s nightmare. And an inspiration coming in the night – too tired to get up and do anything about it and OMG it’s completely gone in the morning. So now I have my trusty notebook at the side of the bed for when those inspirations do come.
Great idea!
Oh that bedside notebook… I, too lost many great ideas (so they seemed) just as I was drifting off to sleep. I thought the bedside notebook would be a great idea. Alas in the morning all I faced was a mass of gibberish, nothing made sense and that great idea was no where to be found. So I tried keeping a small recorder by me and to no great surprise THAT was all gibberish in the morning. And it had the added bonus of making me sound like a stoned groupie for the Grateful Dead. I gave up on late night inspirations and accepted the fact that I am just destined to not realize those fleeting insights until they are ready to see daylight.
Without my glasses, I probably couldn’t see well enough to operate either a notebook or a recorder. Once I get up and get my glasses, I’m up.
Oh yeah! Nicely put.
Thanks.
The best poem about having nothing to write about, ever. Can I steal it? I’ve been struggling, myself.
You, struggling? I forget that we all struggle with this issue from time to time – the rest of you all seem to be so prolific and make it seem effortless.
Steal it? How about your just borrow it (within guidelines, of course).
clapclapclapclapclapclapclap
Excellent, K8! Bravo!!
Thank you dear. As always, good to see you over at my place.
“A writer is a person for whom writing is more difficult than it is for other people.” – Thomas Mann
I wonder how long it took him to write that?
That is so true!! Probably he got up in the night, forgot what he wanted to say, and remembered a few days later.
When I look at the blank page, I find myself thinking “Stop staring at me!” And that is without medication. 🙂
I know, so rude!!!
Oh the dreaded blank page. And your described it so very well! Imagery is everything, but the image of a blank page leaves ya hanging. Love this clever and witty expression of writer’s block angst! Your muse isn’t very far away, I’m quite sure.
I hope so…seems when I have the energy, I haven’t the inspiration, and vice versa.
I actually found it pretty funny, on top of being a good evocation of those periods of writer’s block. One method I have developed is relaxing, concentrating on breathing and allowing my own mind to be as comfortable with blankness as the page, right at the very moment I feel this sort of anxiety. All at once, the muse reappears!
Great writer’s block frustration portrayed! Loved it! 🙂