Getting Rid Of Writers' Block Poem by Leslie Alexis

It seems we all get this poetry block:
when mind's creativity slumbers
And time draws out to tick... and tock,
as the muse deliberately encumbers.

Her touch, her kiss, and sweet rainfall
that the poet becomes desert dry;
muted she does not answer the call,
the poet misses her and does cry.

I've been there time and time again
that my block has become a bolder,
now whenever muse refuses my pen,
whenever my fires smolder

I roll the bolder at the muse
I imagine her at the base of a hill
And give her an offer she can't refuse:
run and inspire, or die by standing still!

I find that this always get me my way
Her immortality she does not want to try.
She gives me many poems by end of day;
To my every beckon she does comply.

Copyright © 2011 Leslie Alexis