|Rosa 'Belinda's Dream'|
When dams bar long the stream of words,
the wisp of thought, the lilting voice,
the lure of prose and syntax choice,
What then stirs the pen to motion?
What then moves the soul to sing?
There are times when dreams fall mute,
There are times when plans unborn,
endless paper, stark and vacant,
endless hours, waste so blatant,
How to start the torrent flowing?
How to keep the river running?
One starts searching deep inside,
One feels urging, surging meme,
and boosts it over dikes and walls,
and nurtures it through storms and squalls,
Why relentless moves the id?
Why the need, the itch to birth?
I must seek within the canyons,
I must listen to the voices,
look for sparks to strike the passion,
look for mood and there to fashion,
Where and when and what to spew?
Where and how and why the word?
ProfessorRoush is working past a little writer's block tonight, hoping that a different pattern will stir up a few ideas from the depths of psyche. The primary rule of breaking writer's block is to start writing. Obviously, tonight that resulted in a poem with an odd cadence and rhyming sequence, during which I had a little fun with the What, Where, When, Why and How's of journalistic dogma. Hopefully, a new week and cooler Fall nights will bring inspiration and release. Meanwhile, a mildly misshapen 'Belinda's Dream' fits my mood, I think, pretty well.