Writer's block or poet's palsy
hems him in like concrete walls he
cannot find a passage through
cannot chase the thoughts that flew
so high so far so out of reach
to hide like sand grains on a beach
with each thought kept from his purview
by walls that he just can't see through.
He must reboot his writer's brain
must turn it off and on again
must sleep, must rest, must turn away
from any more attempts to play
with words assembled into lines
with perfect or imperfect rhymes
to realise it's for the best
for his creative mind to rest.
Until that brighter future day
when poetry comes back to stay.