void of treasure, dry of sap.
The lotus seed burst not into bloom that year.
Bit by bit they chiselled
away at its proud likeness.
How hurtful, how convenient
when friends hurl friends to oblivion.
in a world of its own hating,
we shivered with the knowing,
we struggled with the touch.
The gush has settled down into a mere trickle
and mud is silting oddly the channels of delight.
We sigh and add more caustic
as inspiration dies.
5 thoughts on “Blocked”
Reblogged this on Of Glass & Paper and commented:
Hurt to oblivion…
Inspiration won’t die dear friend ❤
With friends like these, it certainly won’t! Thank you for reblogging, hope your inspiration is still gushing forth.
Of course! And I find some good writing on Cowbird too! 🙂
Gotta love a poem that starts with ‘word by word’!