Writers Block Poem by Brian Joseph Dickenson

Fingers poised above my keys,
Waiting for inspiration.
Brain not working, nothing coming.
Cerebral constipation.

Sometimes the words rush through my head,
Then Niagara Falls is flowing.
I normally have a lot to say,
But now maybe, it’s going.

Could it be a mental glitch?
A synapse not quite firing.
I sit and ponder on my words.
For once I find it tiring.

But in the end I know I’ll win,
I just hate to quit.
I feel the last line surfacing:
And this my friends, is it.