I've sat here for at least an hour,
Trying to make every word right,
But my brain is slowly losing power,
As I write on through the night.
Tapping my pencil repetitively,
Occasionally staring at the clock,
It's good I'm not writing competitively,
Because now I have writer's block!
A few deep breath's calm the soul,
But my eye's slowly begin to burn,
Yet I'm determined to reach my goal,
If only the gear's in my brain would turn!
I look at my page with a gleaming smile,
As I realize I've created my own art,
And have learned a secret how to compile;
Think not from your mind, but from your heart.
Christal Blue
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-poet-s-thoughts-2/