Entry - MAG Poetry Prize 2011

Writer's Block

by Travis Day


The mind’s drain is clogged

I listen to a clock's hands hula hooping in circles.

My head feels like a darkened room, moving my hands along the walls looking for the light switch.

Thinking and still inking away trying to sew the words together.

Everything is quiet as I scoot forward like an old man in slippers

I feel like the ideas have run out, this is terrible to be chewing on a straw with nothing in the cup hoping
there might be one drop left.

Suddenly crackling sounds underneath my feet, I tread lightly on the broken glass of letters.

Darkness is everywhere. Then pulse pulse pulse, whirring crunching lights start to flicker.  

Through the strobe I view the writings and signs on the walls I look to my feet and I see a swirling red line there.

I follow the candy cane floor and I walk and I walk and I reach a door.

I turn the knob and open the moaning creaking slab of wood.

Light begins to surge through like a rising sun. The beams go to my nose, tongue, eyes and shoot out my fingers and toes.

I walk through the door and take the pen and press against the empty page and the writing comes.

Added: 28.04.2011

Judges' comments on this poem

05.05.2011

good poem - needs a change of title

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