Thoughts keep rattling in my brain
in a flow of unconsciousness kind of way.
I feel the schnook, with page after page
of irrelevant rhyme padding my pyre.
Words flee in an escape toward clear through,
breaking the block that every writer fears
from time to time. It keeps me sane,
(at least for show) and I look for the window
that offers a way out. I can’t see how holding me
here serves a purpose. It mocks me.
What I gain in solitude, I lose when I throw
it out the gape, neither rook nor pawn,
just a tool to be worn and discarded.
Yet, poems are key to my survival.
And my muse is on the clock!
© Walter J Wojtanik – 2020
THROUGH THE EYES OF A POET'S HEART 
This is a great line, “It keeps me sane,
(at least for show) and I look for the window
that offers a way out.”
I feel you, fellow poet. Poetry is how I survive and keep sane too (or it makes me more insane–we have yet to find out).
Beautiful poetry here with fantastic use of figurative imagery. I can feel the thoughts bouncing around, and the urgency in the imagery like with the window, for instance–that’s stunning. Excellent piece here with remarkable detail. I enjoyed reading it!
What I gain in solitude, I lose when I throw
it out the gape, neither rook nor pawn,
just a tool to be worn and discarded.
Yet, poems are key to my survival.
And my muse is on the clock!
You are right! When we were in the rat race, we longed for time off. Now we are required to be off and we long to be on the go… either way, poems are the key to survival!
Well done.
dwight
Your muse is on the clock really puts the pressure on. Hoping your muse takes you on holiday 🙂
These words resonate with me:
“Words flee in an escape toward clear through,
breaking the block that every writer fears
from time to time. It keeps me sane,
(at least for show) and I look for the window
that offers a way out.”
I treasure my early morning writing….last week I was away from dVerse with an eye infection….reading and writing were not comfortable, to say the least. I am back on course now. Realizing the taken-for-granted blessing of sight. Just takes something like that to realize how important the “little” things are in life.
This is a new kind of solitude. We are still figuring it out. (K)
Pashaw! You weren’t made Poet Laureate for baking cookies!
But you have to admit, they were great cookies! Thanks for reminding me, Marilyn!
Those cookies were the best!
“My muse is on the clock” … What a memorable phrase! Aren’t we all lucky we can escape into words and self-expression?!
Indeed, the healing of poetry for the poet. Wonderful, especially the muse on the clock.