Writers Block

As the washer clinks and clunks its way toward clean clothes.
I sit and think while listening to the rhythms of the machine
as it cleanses all. If it could only cleanse my mind of random
thoughts of nothing, that seem always to get in the way.

To clear a path to thoughts of substance, paving the way to
literary greatness, or at least a word that wiggles itself into
some mediocre write which I know shouldn’t have made it to
someone else's eyes.

I need that garbled clump of goop that feeds my appetite for
writing, as it dislodges remnants of times gone by, things that
are shaken loose from deep within my soul, while it agitates
and spins me in new and different directions.

It is what life has given me to work with, an abundance of
good and bad, new and old, fresh and stale, with a vehicle for
me to climb aboard to explore the deep recesses of my mind
and soul. It seems that vehicle stalls at times and hesitates
before it is able to start again and continue on its way.

To take me out of this non productive place I’m in, to that
crisp clean white piece of paper so my pen will flow to places
it’s never been.


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© 2009 Charles Dennis