I have drained the well of emotions, from it I draw only dust
Not a bucket full of devotions or a drop of lust
Dry runs the stream of thought, evaporated the spring of fear
Above ground my fruits rot, dried up the last tear
Want feeds starvation from its empty pocket
The mind's wheels of creation lack their chain and sprocket
All about seas to drink but all of it salted
Dried up is all the ink poetry has halted
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Author:
sorenbarrett (
Online) - Published: February 5th, 2026 03:36
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 3
Online)
Comments1
Oh no! Writer's block?!
Writer\'s block, the chopping block, the dock or what ever. Not that there aren\'t words it is just a common lot none having that spark that sets the pyre ablaze. Thanks for the read Orchi I appreciate the read and comment I\'m sure someone will bring some gas soon.
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