Be here with the cup
In the soapy water
Be here with the toaster
As it cooks
Smelling the aroma of crusty bread
Browning
Be here with the sights and sounds of nothing more important arising
Than dust motes drifting across the room
As writers we are trained to panic
It is ingrained this thought of blankness
As wrong
The white page
The empty canvas of the mind
Frightening
As bloggers who post daily
It can be even worse
Waiting for the words
They come when they want to
Wild creatures
That cannot be controlled
But they won’t find you when you’re so involved with trying
You can’t hear the soft touch of leather clad feet
Ruffling feathers that say they are here
You cannot hear their breath as they alight on your shoulder
And growing bolder whisper in your ear
You cannot hear
Anything
Over the sound of your own head thinking
So butter the toast
Spread the vegemite
Eat
With a blank mind
And one ear tuned
To the sound of the word birds
Arriving
They’ll be here soon
Just keep an open mind
(And remember
They despise cages
And will never enter
A locked room)
Some days are wait and watch days. I used to panic when I seemed to have a blank space where the words usually flow – now I find it natural and enjoy the peace and quiet of for once, not having thousands of words all jostling like people to get off the ferry and burst onto the page.
Perhaps it’s just winding down for Christmas – who else is feeling peaceful?
Peaceful? … we will after all the presents are wrapped this afternoon. We have tea and we have rolls and rolls of paper and sticky-tape. We’re good to go! π
Enjoy!
Done! … except for the inevitable one we forgot! π
Ahh yes that one π
Me me me!! ππΌββοΈ π
Haha π shhh π€« donβt scare them away!!π
lol….. ππ€«π
Love this. Especially the ending.
Hi Mitch Thank-you π
Thank You for another well thought out Poem! My Lady Love is coming home, a can of ashes now. I have a place for her next to Her Precious dog, Ember, who is next to my Precious Dog, Tao, where next my grave-site lies, awaiting me…..My Esteemed neighbors are holding a Memorial Service for my much Loved Lady, whose many Years were spent being a Good Friend to ALL. Just writing this note makes the tears of loss begin to flow, yet she still sits here next to me, urging me on to do Good Work’s……To make Her Proud of Her old man……I am not waiting for the Word, the Word is: What Is…… ________________________________
Sending you some love.
(whispering) I’ve never read such a beautiful description of getting-over-writer’s-block……. Loved this
May the word birds find you – there is no block itβs all in the head – open the cage door better yet take the cage away – birds need open space π¦
We had a Blue & Gold MaCaw Parrot named Mr. Perkins, who would toddle along the floor calling out in My Lady’s children’s voices; Mom! Mother!, Hey MOM, Hello MOM! Reminding her to call and speak to her children, all the birds we were blessed with never had a cage door closed on them, they were free to come and go as they pleased, sure one of them would tear off chunks of wallboard, but that is what Plaster is for…..I would not trade those memories for anything……Now my beloved Swallows have disappeared from the face of this Earth, I spent Hours watching their nestlings learn to fly, what Joy! Now they are gone from my life, and nothing can replace them, so Sad!
I have a day off and so am definitely feeling peaceful. I love the days of calm, sitting, reading, cup of coffee, chatting with a neighbour and waiting for my word birds :-).
Sounds lovely enjoy
When writers block hits, just give Jase your log it to Word Press π He cracks me up
Bahaha – he certainly took to it like a duck to water – man needs his own blog
Yep, flows right out of him, thatβs for sure
Nice poem
Thanksπ
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