Constant in his belief.
Withered, all withered
Words, infrequent visitors
No longer leaving imprints upon a page
He sits, suffering
The anguish of not writing
As he fails, then rises, then fails again
Inside his head, he frets
On the outside, no one understands.
When will his exhaustion be complete?
It helps, he tells himself
To gaze continuously at an empty page.
Long since clouded over thoughts
Will in time see light of day?
Persistence, he firmly believes
Will lead to him having lots to say.
© Chris Black.
Poetry from The Man Shed
27th April 2020
~The Poet’s Poet~
Chris's Blog 
Very well evoked
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Hi! I’ve not spent time on my WP in quite some time – I only just checked my notifications for the first time in months and, lo’ and behold! I discover you have found me on my Old Fossil Writes site!! Thanks so much for following here as well.
It’s nice to be able to read your poems back to back – I will surely keep up with your WP posts.
Catch you back on IG!
Pearl
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Weird or what
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