Writer’s Block?

A Poem

Why did the words stop flowing? I ask but no answer comes. I write but only responses to what I’ve read A short post on Facebook, nothing to dread.

I’m reminded I have much to share An obligation to write, to encourage, to inspire But the words do not come. So I sit here and hum.

I wonder, is this what they call “Writer’s Block?” I get impatient with myself. I look at my stats — they are abysmal. This month I may not even pay for the portal.

But that’s OK. I know I could boost the earnings With a simple “Thank You” note But I don’t feel like doing that. Am I depressed, is that the rat?

I’ve been there before And usually writing is the therapy That helps me dig out of the deep, dark hole. So perhaps it will again play the role.

Perhaps this poem will break the jam And words will once more flow freely. I can always hope. There is no need to mope.

But it is frustrating when you call yourself a writer And feel you’ve finally found a long-submerged identity Then one day you just stop writing. But now I feel the end; it is exciting!

Yesterday I took three naps. My wife was alarmed. I read a little, but the new book did not interest me, But I read a post that did inspire. It reminded me that I could not retire.

It gave me the boost I needed Today, I’m lifted by prayers and songs I’ve words to write and stories to share I hope they’ll make people stop and care.

Maybe I just needed a break A time to rest and regenerate. I hope it’s past, that awful gloom. May the brightness I feel light the room.

Thanks Trista Ainsworth for the inspiration to write this story. You wrote:

“I cannot share my gifts with the world if I am not authentic. The true path is one where I always share my real heart, as difficult as that may be for me.”

Your story was just what I needed to read today:

So true: we must share our authentic selves. By doing so, we heal the wounds of the world and make it a more peaceful loving place.

Thanks also Amy Marley for sharing your pain. You gave me the idea to put my thoughts and feelings into a poem.

I am not an empath or one who is in touch with his feelings. Often I don’t know what I’m feeling.

It may be the awful fires consuming so much of my home state (California) and Oregon and Washington are weighing on me. So many people have been driven from their homes. So many homes and lives destroyed. I can’t imagine having to pack a few belongings, as Trista’s folks did, and evacuate not knowing if our home would be there upon our return.

Yet I know that God will have the last word and IT WILL BE GOOD.

Another, dark part of the problem is that I’ve read so many good pieces lately that I started to doubt my own work and its worth. It just did not seem to measure up. I let my inner critic get the better of me and shut down the flow. I called the plumber, my Higher Self, and He gave my self a good talking to. I remembered Holly’s admonition: practice, practice, practice, which means: write, write, write.

I hadn’t stopped writing entirely. I kept up with the daily prompts and exercises in the 21-Day Workshop I’m taking. I also responded to comments from readers and read and commented on what others had written. I just didn’t post any new poems or stories.

Hopefully, the dry spell is over. If not, I may have to re-read Trista’s wonderful posts (her 100-day challenge) and give myself another talking to. I may even call on a friend to give me a good swift kick in the rear.

Have you had such an experience? Let me know in the responses. If so, how did you get back to writing?