By Joseph Hesch
The skittering chill up my spine
doesn’t come from hoodoos, bogeymen, The skittering chill up my spine
bugbears or the night bumpers anymore.
I enjoy the company of darkness
in my bed at night,
and I walk these cracked sidewalks,
head held high, as I pass by
their cracked denizens daily.
Expressing myself to others,
tens or thousands, no longer shakes me.
I’ve stared down disease, criminal intent,
the uncertainty of parenthood
and the whoosh-by of swift death.
But not much scares me so these days
as sitting with a frozen mind
in front of a snowy-white page.
No kidding. Spill some coffee on the white page, make it less perfect unless the white page is your computer, then um... don't spill coffee on it. A less than perfect computer is expensive. *hug*
ReplyDeleteack....yes....i dont believe in writers block any more than i do the boogey man though...smiles...
ReplyDeleteI think that terror hits all of us poets & writers from time to time...although the 'whoosh-by of swift death' might do it for me, too.. *wry smile* ..there doesn't seem much wrong with your muse these days, Joe *hugs* :)
ReplyDeleteI can relate to that fear....thankfully I don't have it yet...
ReplyDeleteWishing you Happy New Year ~
Cheers ~
Well expressed, Joe! You don't seem blank at all : )
ReplyDeleteFor a while now, I have been quite frozen; and with accompaning anxiety (that part is new...lol)...the other day, I just started writing things on a grocery list, which helped!
Wishing you a never-ending flow of words for 2012. Thank you for all your support and work with dVerse!
-Eva
Every writer's not to 'tiny' terror is to feel a blockade to the usual free flowing thinking and subsequent creation of worded pictures. You expressed the emotion very well. I loved this poem. :)
ReplyDelete