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The Writer Block


Brent Fuller

Poetry is Lullaby
Sweat but rich, good witch's brew
Inexorably tucked inside a writer's pen askew
Sit to write but don't know what
Can I salute this bane?
Inside out of prose again
And tongue tied to a plan

Insecure is trickling down
My left elbow tonight
Right hand scratching, placing, calming
But it isn't worth the fight

Time is mine and all I need to do is follow course
Hear the blue line and range upon the silken word
And sort

Fragile drops of dew
And dripping honey do I seek
Cascading verse and lovely verb
Why won't my page appease

"Simmer down you stranger-
In your desolation wrest"
"Find your bed make peace with it
And stand to morning's hearth"

"Brew a cup of company alone a time
And sleep"
"Sleep and sand
You winsome sire
Tell it to your dream's sheik"

"Or perhaps tell his elephants.
You'll wake a wholer fire
If you can't 'light with his caravan
Then call yourself a liar."

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