THIS IS MY CONSTANT STRUGGLE

I have writer's block

Most of the time

On my mind there is a lock

Those ideas so sublime

But unreachable, they are

Within the depths of my mind

Hidden deep and far

If only I could find

Those beautiful words

Just beyond my grasp

They fly away like startled birds

To reach out and clasp

Each beautiful phrase

And weave a plot

Out of the haze

That seems to blot

Out my thoughts

My words are trapped

They won't come as they ought

Leaving only me rapt

No one can appreciate

These words I think

Oh, how I hate

My ideas that slink

Away until I manage

To reach out to them

My story, the damage

Too great to hem

Only once in a great

While do I feel this way

To sit down and create

My own private literary cay

Alas, fortune does forsake

My poor doomed soul

In writing I cannot partake

The words are in a hole

Unwritten stories only I can weave

For all of them I mourn

So I cry and I grieve

For those words unborn