Dust

The crisp white paper is a stark contradiction
to the stale words scribbled upon it
pretending to be prose

She sits for days and weeks at a time
waiting for an ingenious inspiration
something that will take her to the next level,
whatever or wherever that may be
disappointed her work has never met her persistence

But here the keyword is work
as it does not come easy
the words do not flow as she knows they must for others
whose brilliance in prophetic ideas
captures ones mind, soul and heart

And how ridiculous she feels to even remotely
compare her work or even hope that it could ever
measure up to that of genius
but genius is what she desires, lusts for, covets

And somewhere floating around her mind,
the words are there, like the tiny
dust particles that shimmer in a sunlit window
only to disappear the moment they pass through the light
Never making their way to paper

 

Shelli Carlisle © 2012

Tagged boomer style magazine, dust, poetry, Shelli Carlisle, writers block