Tags
creativity, divine revelations, dry spells, inspiration, london fog, muse, paper napkins, parting gift, poetry, spark, writer's block, writers
it comes
in waves
different vehicles
different days
no matter
whether the weather
is a perfect 75 degrees and sunny
or overcast with a chance of London Fog
it comes in shorts
umbrellas and boots
warming its hands by the fire
it comes angry
hard and fast
a torrential down-pouring
of lost memories and emotions
it comes gently
with quick kisses on blushing cheeks
it comes with no regard
to the time of day
the place
the lack of tools
writing apparatuses
paper, napkins, menus
anything will suffice
because when it comes
we make ourselves ready
we are the whores for its choosing
eager to please
we are the junky for which one more time will never be enough
we are the helpless and hopeless
drop everything to follow its lead
for the dry spells it leaves us with are wicked
dry heaving, soul retching spells
emptying us hollow
but when it imparts with us
its parting gift
sweet, divine revelations
life on paper in poem form
we are made whole
we pray this time
is not the last time
and so
we wait
for that spark
for the inspiration to flow
again.
A lovely, profound piece!
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