There is paper before me and a pen in my hand, and I sit here staring, thinking, distracted. So many thoughts, Ideas, and subjects crowd my mind that none can push its way to the front making it impossible to settle on any one thing. So I sit…. Pen in hand… Waiting…. Waiting for inspiration… For a Muse… For…….something…….ANYTHING. Moments pass. Or is it minutes? It’s hard to tell but since my coffee is no longer hot I will assume the latter. I pop it in the microwave to warm it up then return to my desk to, once again, await inspiration, and I begin to write. Nothing profound mind you. Just these simple lines about my lack of inspiration. Then suddenly it strikes me that my lack of inspiration has been the very thing that inspired me to write. I smile to myself at the irony of it and it reminds me of a poem I wrote a few years back in a similar situation. “I was going to write a poem today, But could not think of what to say. The words were in my head I know, But through my pen they would not flow. I tried and tried but did not get, A single word to write down yet. And though I knew not what to say, I guess I wrote one any way.” (© 2013 Patrick Sherrill)
Posted on: Sat, 09 Nov 2013 14:31:09 +0000
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