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Muse for Monday

Worth a plug nickel?

With Valentine’s Day approaching, we are not going to have some sappy love poem. In fact, we are going very far away from love altogether in this post. And to be even more forthright, this poem features tonight strictly at the win of a toss of the coin.

The following poem is likely a formatting nightmare soon to make me pull my hair from its roots. If so, it will be much like the writing.

While I often will doze off, leaving a long scribble as the pencil leaves the paper, when awaken, I finish whatever thought was interrupted my annoying need for sleep. This poem is not an example of that.

Instead, Mantra took her time. I finished a stanza and drew an absolute blank. I charted it, turned the page and wrote something else in a matter of minutes. Off to sleep. Next morning, picked up the pencil, turned to the page, ready to write. Nada. Mantra was sleeping in, the wench.

That night, I thought, surely it will flow onto the paper without a problem. Mantra was being her usual impish self. I wrote something completely different… as in not even the same genre. Next morning, I did not give Mantra a chance. I went out and skipped it altogether.

When I got home, I looked through my book for what would be tonight’s poem. I found the one I wanted, but had that nagging… I turned to the unfinished poem… and did not read it. Instead, I wrote the last line. With no further ado, I give you Writer’s Block.

Writer’s Block

The tendrils hang and sway in the breeze.
Heart-shaped leaves veined with yellow
Glisten in the early morning dew.

A magpie cheeps and squawks a gory tale
Of squirrely thieves raiding her nested fare,
And a lonely sunbeam stabs through the glass

To puddle on the hand-waxed floor.

The morning stands still in defiance
Of the ticking clock in the hall, with
The sun anchored by the lonely beam.

Her skirt swings wide, making a shadow
Where the light puddled on the planks.
She draws up the sash and pulls back the drape

Before she heads out the back door.

Gathering water in the battered old can
She reaches up to give the ivy a drink.
Disturbed from his slumber, a lizard

Crawls out of the pot in search of a ray
To dry his drenched, green skin.
She fills the bird bath in hopes

Of a visit from the bluebirds and robins.

She fetches a steaming mug and her book
And perches on the swing on the porch.
Distracted  by the magpie, she tries,

But can’t seem to write, her thoughts
And memories and hopes for the day,
Or recall the comforting dream

Of the quaint, deep forest cabin.

She remembers the place from a story
Her grandfather told of courtship
So tender between young hearts.

The image all hazy is fanned forever
Away by the beating of tiny wings,
As the sparrows circle the bath.

Creativity lost, she returns to her chores.

110220122122

~~~~~~~~~~

Was I wrong to give Mantra the finger? Does this happen to you? What do you do when your muse decides to be reassigned to a new project?


© Red Dwyer 2012
Reblogging of this or any other post on The M3 Blog is expressly forbidden.
Copyright and Privacy Policy available in The Office.



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17 Comments

  1. I hate it when I get writer’s block. I had it for several months this last year. My blog(s) have really helped – writing what I want because I want instead of selling my soul for pennies. It’s almost as bad when she is going full bore and I can’t write/type/think fast enough to keep up with her!

    Reply
  2. Given I haven’t written a poem since my three cathartic poems a year or two back I can only say; “Well Done!” 🙂

    Love and hugs!

    Prenin.

    Reply
    • I thought this one was fun to find out in the end what it was really about! Happy Valentine’s Day!

      Red.

      Reply
  3. Yay poetry! Christy rises and brings out the pom-poms. I think you captured well the feeling when you want to write but the words just don’t form in your mind. The wall, and slate, is blank. The lizard is a neat touch, I had to read to find out how the photo related to the words!

    Reply
    • I hope you like the night post tonight. It is not what most expect in a Valentine’s Day poem. Lately, I have been writing from a perspective Mantra sees, but not where I have been. The novelty does not seem to be wearing away. I rather like it.

      And I loved the lizard!!

      Reply
  4. I will hunt my muse down and make them pay for leaving me in my moment of need. That should keep my creative juices flowing until a new muse arrives.

    Reply
  5. Sometimes you have to trick yourself. When I get writer’s block, I’ll take a blank sheet of paper and write, “If I wasn’t experiencing writer’s block, I’d be writing about…” and take it from there.

    Reply
  6. I’m only an occasional writer, but I can understand when a writer has difficulty putting his thoughts on paper. It’s, I guess, something that even the best writers experience, from time to time.

    Although it’s not exactly the usual Valentine’s Day poem, I still think it has a touch of it:

    “She remembers the place from a story
    Her grandfather told of courtship
    So tender between young hearts.”

    ~ Matt

    Reply
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