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A Writer's Block
With pen poised over the blank white sheet,
Waiting to receive writings, inspirational or automatic,
Through some sphere of phychic channeling,
My mind remained still.
Bleak snow-covered tundra in an artic freeze,
The whiteness of the paper blinds the eye of my imagination.
Feeling the chill breath of solitude sweeping
Across the barren flats of reflection,
I cap my pen and swear to never write again.
Then, faintly seen, upon a distant slope of thought,
A vague impression, a word, a sentence lights the
Winter's sky; line by line trails of creative expression
Mysteriously appear across that stark and frozen plain.
Like some great river's ice broken up at first breath
Of spring, a poem is freed to float.
poem
by
Lynn W. Petty
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