The bard with no tales

The words stare at me,
Stay put, far away, in the
Corner of creativity; the rivers
Are frozen and the neurons

I go after them, ice pick in hand,
And with blow after blow, break
Off random rhymes
That fall to the pages and
Melt into islands of nothingness.

My muscles beg for reprieve
Panting, I finally accept
My fate:
I am a bard with no tales
To tell.


12 thoughts on “The bard with no tales

    1. Ah! The perils of being a master wordsmith, you are constantly under pressure to spin them killer tales. I feel your pain bro….I know you’ve got it in you to always deliver


  1. The block! Darn prick in the foot.


    Much as you think there is nothing to write, I will agree with Dr Swag, that this right here is nothing short of magic. โค


    1. Thanks Me! when you suffer from the block, you write about the block! Perhaps, as the Yorubas say, a pristinely white pap can emerge from a blackened pot.


  2. Charles Bukowski asserts this…’Writing about a writer’s block is better than not writing at all’ and I totally agree!

    Some person who goes by the name Muse however affirms this….’The best cure for cranial constipation is emotional fiber. Feel ‘something’, anything…pain, anger, joy; if your heart goes eerily cold or leaps erratically from your chest, your synaptic bowels will soon find release’! ๐Ÿ˜‚

    Your title of choice is a real tearjerker, hinging on hysterical especially seeing as this bard’s quite succeeded in spinning an awful hell of a whale of a tale from seemingly emptiness…nothingness! Writer’s block he says and I ask…’the heck was that again’?! ๐Ÿ˜ˆ๐Ÿ˜† I plain fail to see it! ๐Ÿ˜

    Every one person’s got a tale to tell at every one time! That one hits a few snags every now and then to become pretty uninspired and dispassionate; coupled with this recurring scenario whereby the muses decides to take one on a rollercoaster ride on the wild side; can tend to make one get into a funk and not feel up to writing anything!
    Lili St. Crow however, is got just the perfect solution to that one. She says…’Discipline allows magic. To be a writer is to be the very best of assassins. You do not sit down and write everyday to force the muse to show up. You get into the habit of writing everyday so that when she shows up, you have the maximum chance of catching her, bashing her on the head and squeezing every last drop out of that bitch’! ๐Ÿ˜ฉ๐Ÿ˜†
    You do see where you got it all wrong now Doc, don’t you? ๐Ÿ˜ˆWell then, ditch and lose that ice pick already! Gun for a sledge hammer or a baseball bat instead! Those will make the clubbing exercise most effective on that ever so elusive muse! This means war! Mine word! ๐Ÿ˜ˆ๐Ÿ˜‚

    On a more serious note, you did bring this! Those lines are mighty creative and beauty-filled! Plus, I like the dramatic feel the poem gives off in its entirety! ๐Ÿ˜Ž Plenty kudos Doc, this is a clear win! ๐Ÿ˜„


      1. Hehehe. Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies Swag…I am who you say I am…just! ๐Ÿ˜ˆ๐Ÿ˜†

        I guess this is the part I smh too! Some things…they never change! ๐Ÿ˜ฉ Jokester! ๐Ÿ˜‚


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