With battered bones and broken teeth,
There dwells a creature they call the creep.
Whose eyes are blind and slits of red,
But do not rest within his head,
For In his palms, so quite sly,
Here you find this beings eye.
And in it’s fingers long and thin,
He searches on the waves of wind.
Of nothing more than skin and bones,
With arms so slightly over-grown,
Resting upon a tabled feast
A heavy breath escapes the beast.
Til a grape is stole and placed,
To her lips for just a taste,
The creep he rises off his seat,
For warned she was not to eat.
She runs on down a narrow hall,
And draws a square upon the wall,
As she pushes with all her might,
He comes on closer into her sight.
With a limp he shuffles near,
She drops her chalk in clumsy fear.
She pulls a chair and draws again,
Above her head a doorframe.
With a push it opens wide,
She stumbles and begins to climb,
’til she is up out the floor,
And left the creature behind the door.
“A bird doesn’t sing because it has an answer, it sings because it has a song.”
― Maya Angelou
Firstly, I feel I should apologise to my readers and followers for posting not even a word on here in over 4 months. I seem to have misplaced my imagination.
The sad part of this is I love writing, I could sit in front of a blank page with a pen (yes the old fashioned way) and hour later I’d have a story, a few doodles and a lot of corrections and crossing out. If I had nothing to write about I’d make it up and create little creatures like the love bug. But right now, nothing! My page is blank, my mind is negative and my poems are dark.
I was surprised to find, that although my blog has been a little quiet, my stats are not. I’ve passed the 3000 hits mark, I’m well on my way to 4000 and I’m still having views everyday. This made me pine for my pen even more.
I have a little red book, it’s full of notes, poems, finished and half wrote, doodles and ideas. I think it’s time I blew of the dust and shook off the writers block!
So I will speak to you all soon,