This pen is cursed
of that I am sure
It just won’t produce
I must find a cure
It used to give flowery prose
like honey for the Gods
Now every word is a fight
no matter how much I prod
No matter my will
my anger or plan
I cannot escape the pen
That is chained to my hand
So I am cursed to write drivel
or trash or waste
Cursed to write only
what is considered bad taste
Copyright © 2021 Penny Wilson
Thank you to `M for the wonderful Prompts which can
be found HERE.
Reblogged this on The Reluctant Poet.
LikeLike
Such a cool prompt…I’ve experienced that more times than I care to admit…Great poem, Penny speaking our truth.
LikeLike
Thank you, Ally. For one that says she’s having trouble with the prompts, you’re doing wonderfully! 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
This is a great poem, Penny [even if it is certainly not based on fact in your case].
LikeLike
Thank you, Robbie! 🙂
LikeLike
Awww…. Penny! I’m so excited you’re doing my prompts! Love this one… 😉
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you! ❤
LikeLiked by 1 person
You’re welcome ❤️
LikeLike
There are moments of writer’s bloc, for sure. But this isn’t one of them for you. I enjoyed this. Laughed aloud.
LikeLike
Thanks, Audrey. I had fun with this one. 🙂
LikeLike
Nice
LikeLike
Thank you!
LikeLiked by 1 person