I have been finding it very difficult to get inspired to write any poetry lately, until yesterday, when I read the beautiful poem, “The Poet~part 2”, from The Stories In Between.  What I wrote is pale in comparison to his gorgeous poem, just the unedited bones of a first draft, but it was wonderful to feel the inspiration.

The Writer

Light flits off an empty screen,

taunting me,

throwing doubt into my eyes.

Why must I always break through the waves,

only to find my mouth full of ash?

My feet are less steady each time I stand,

heart hollow from the effort.

I try to shake the brittle ink from the pen,

but the emptiness is so loud,

painful to the touch.   

My words become frail in the heat,

all sense of myself siphoned into the sun.