Ode to…

This is a poem I wrote when I had writers block.

Blank word document how I hate you so,
Blank word document how the words do not flow,
I’ve got plots galore,
In my desk drawer,
But I have no strength to retrieve them.

This writer’s block is a horrible thing,
It steals ideas from the great and forgotten,
Those who sit in their chairs,
With lifeless blank stares,
Til’ their minds become useless and rotten.

This poem right here is certainly not prose,
And its merits are few and far between,
But at least it’s a start,
Full of hope, full of heart,
A beginning of something unseen.