(c) 2018 Edward York
I was sitting poised for writing,
I just needed time to think.
I filled my glass with ice cubes,
And poured myself a drink.
The screen was right before me,
The keyboard was set to write.
I just needed some inspiration,
But none would come that night.
The page just sat there waiting,
All crisp and glowing white,
In hopes that there would be magic,
And I would find the words to write.
All subjects seemed evasive,
All thoughts seemed to fade away.
The empty page sat teasing,
No words were there to say.
So the page just remained empty,
The thoughts had gone away.
Any words that might be coming,
Will have to wait another day.
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Author:
lasergraph (
Offline) - Published: April 9th, 2018 08:36
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 26
- Users favorite of this poem: Accidental Poet, Laura🌻
Offline)
Comments6
If it brought about this poem it was worth it in the end.
Thank you.
You got that... gin?? Have a drink. Ya might get more words then! Sober ones! heehee.
Haha. I never drink to excess anyway, at least not in about 45 years.
Sometimes that which eludes us comes about in it's own way. Well done Ed.
Patience is its own reward it seems. The blank page can be a scary place.
And a breeding ground for a great poem. ; )
This is great! Always enjoy your poems, laser.
Thank you. I appreciate that.
That blank page obviously attracted these fine words laser.
When it's blank you got to fill it with something.
You did it again, Laser!
You found the solution.
You certainly did fill that blank page with a fine write!
~Laura~
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