Inspiration

This, without thought, was and is about writer's block. It, coincidentally, happened when I had writer's block. I hope you not only find this enduring, but I also hope you will be able to relate.

A candle lit with a small spout of fire
Fresh fallen snow that makes no sound
Glasses on a freckled nose
With books to read through a cold winter blow.

Ice hanging on the trees
So still, so fragile
So many of them while I watch them a while
So beautiful with the glint of the cold, freezing sun
With the sparkle and shimmer I've wished for so long.

With the wit in my head
A pen in my hand
And paper unread and unwritten
With much thought to understand
And the shame I can't have,
I write with no intention.

More and more
I wish there was
To seek, to speak,
While I can't think no more
And the pounding of snow
On the soft frozen ground
So does not help 
The inspiration I lack.

So I sit, 
Instead,
And think of what there is
To think I understand
And there is more
I wish I had. 

Author's Note

If you could say anything about this poem, I would be glad to hear what you have to say. Any kind of (fair and kind) critiquing is could for me, especially since I am such a young writer.

Reviews

[Antara Kundu]

I liked how you played with the words and the rhythm - especially in the last two stanzas. And yes, I can relate :-). Good work.

[ChrisM]

What gorgeous imagery! You are a talented poet. :)

[Kitt]

I like the images. Very detailed. I heard the rhythm was slow, like a lullaby. Beautiful.