Writer’s block
Dear Writer's Block,
You have so much to say
to a piece of paper,
but I'm standing right here
please acknowledge me,
and tell me all you know.
Your words are like rain
I long for it during drought,
to hear the drumming music,
and wipe it across the sky in a furious blue,
a blue that never settles.
Your words, drops of ice
falling rapidly
from an all knowing mouth,
always falling down
tripping over themselves,
falling over each other,
they fall to the floor
and shatter on the ground,
by force or by choice
I will never know.
People curse the day
your drops dare tap them on their door,
they close the words away
lock it up,
turn the key tight,
I want to open the door
I want to flee the room.
Please,
take this dry paper
And make me a puddle
make me a lake
make me an ocean
where our ideas can roam free,
where I can swim in your thoughts.
Give me Prospero's magic
and his island,
where only you and I can
dance in the rain,
and watch the sunrise
painted with the colors of your leaves,
and the sunset,
to mark the end
of a new idea
of a paper filled,
With magic so great.
Give me the warmth
of your words,
and the sun behind your clouds,
show me the light in your eyes
as you let the words poor onto the paper.
Like a fire colored tree,
rain your leaves
onto me
let red orange yellow
bathe me in their shade.
I'm waiting here
with a jar in my hand,
a heart shaped jar
just so that you understand,
my heart fills with your words,
it await the next beat of thunder,
the clapping hands of lightning,
drops fill my heart
with words so powerful,
that many struggle to hear.
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