Featured Poem:
Writers Block
My mind that once spat forth unfathomable depth of artistry,
Far beyond the conventions of man and their primitive ways
To gather knowledge, has lost the gentle touch of imaginative flow.
The mood that once held me so avidly, guiding my hands and
Tools across pages of bound parchment now slumbers.
The ink is useless in its pot, the quill dusty from disuse and
My mind weary from the dull passage of time, has forgotten
The pleasures of written words, beautifully orchestrated to
Flow like paint from the brush of a skilled artist.
This block of brick and stone, layered high and thick before me,
Hindered any progression of my mind. Even as I slowly tore down
The wall, brick by brick, and layer by layer, the sun’s rays
Were still far off. It is now a chore to force my hand to glide
As smoothly as it once did, for the ink to flow just right,
And keep the nib of my quill from breaking in forced rush.
My mind’s progression is blocked by the stone wall,
Which I plan to destroy and return to my former glory
In the world of written beauty.
--Gothic Lust
Original Works:
**Everything on this page, "Fictionpress", has been originally written by me, and is protected by copyright laws. Plagerizim is illegal and punishable by fines and jail time. Please do not copy or use any of my artwork, poetry, short-stories, or novel ideas without my direct and written permission. Thank you very much.
