Creative Writing, OldVenue

Creative Writing: Writer’s Block

Uninspired I sit.
Tap, tap, tap,
The keys click, click.
Beginning is the first step
The worst step,
Where my brain has to think, think.
Scrambled meter on toast,
Beat by biro until ink bleeds smudgy footprints
That sprint into an illegible mess.
Charcoaled crumbs trail the finish line,
Cremating it with an X.

Sanity scrubbed in the sink,
Patience is teetering; an old-timer almost extinct.
China bowls and cups now bone dry,
Padlocked in cupboard they caress a cry
Of the songbird, slaved.
All the while nostalgic tea leaves thirst,
Their bodies deflate under the weight of my verse.
Two sugars, please, and a dollop of creativity.

Where to begin, how to start?
Concentrate, but I ponder:
New beginnings make ends to endings.
Beginnings end endings.
Also, endings end with beginnings.
Beginnings begin after endings,
So, endings begin before beginnings.
Then which comes first, the beginning or the ending?
The chicken or the egg?
Why fear the end when it is actually a beginning?

Oxymorons contradict and constrict.
Twizzling, turning I roast them on a spit;
It is a convenient nuisance.
Accurate nonsense.
All clarity is barbequed by amber coals,
It is irritably pleasing. Pleasingly irritable.
And the world doesn’t make sense.
Oh, what a pretence!

Now stop rambling and think, think.
Structure, rhyme, rhythm,
Lights, camera, action!
Lock ‘n’ load
But the barrel does not share it spares of delight,
And the camera chokes chewed film,
It is gulped by the night.
Selfish, selfish pistol.
I click the hammer
And resort to repetition,
It is trigger, trigger, triggering.

Malnourished the page awaits,
Craving, wavering,
Pacing behind bars into a sticky paste.
I lick my lips.

Fatigue faints.
I taste the cream, sugar,
My laces tied tight, I win the race.
This impossible task turned memorable maze,
Its map joined dot-to-dot
With lines of letters and bread crusts saved.
I dodge the dead-ends,
I rant and rave
To evoke the muse.
Anger her, strangle her,
Till tales tumble from my tongue
And I can begin until I am done.

Touching the keys, I tap, tap,
The worst step trodden.
The beginning has ended,
Another began.


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March 2021
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