When I got this week's prompt I thought about a poem I'd already written and how perfect it was for the prompt.
For A Poet
I tried to write, words wouldn't come.
Emotions spilled out; anger,remorse,fear and guilt.
My pen couldn't connect them.
Tears spilled as frustration turned to fatigue.
Paper was flung aside as I slumped in my chair
Willing thoughts to come together.
The pattern that emerged was totally negative.
No light, no joy, no happiness or hope,
No positive thoughts to pen.
Doors open, then shut.
It was not the time to create,
Only to understand.














Comments: 21
The quiet helps me.
( one small typo : It was not the time to ceate, ).
You are truly talented :)