This is a poem about the problem faced by writers when trying to produce something to meet a deadline - the blank paper becomes a challenge or a barrier to be overcome.
Chosen pen
poised, black ink
Scrap paper
scribble scrunched
Broad nibbed
blotter doodles
Stark crisp paper
stares back
Offers nothing,
not a jot
fresh ideas gone
stale
and the clock
The clock ticks,
always ticking
Its not too hard,
just words
Five thousand,
just numbers
Use smaller words
for speed
Big numbers,
little words
Less to write,
less to think
and the clock
ticks
Nothing doing
zip, nada, zilch
uninspired brain
empty
Changes wrung
A different pen
fine nibbed
Washable blue for
black
Different paper
lined feint
Pastel blue or
beige
and the clock
ticks, always ticking
Knowing just what
to say
Wondering how to
say it
A title perhaps,
or
“Introduction”
“Introduction”
wrote big, stares back
Challenging and
strong
Condensed
intimidation by
A single bloody
word
And the clock
ticks
One more armchair
coffee
Bourbon biscuits
nibbled
Ginger nuts
dunked
Cold water
splashed face
Cool fresh air
under
Unhelpful
darkening skies
Words evaded,
delayed
The clock ticks,
always ticking
Two more words,
together
“The End”
Start and finish
found
How to stretch
the middle?
For four thousand
nine hundred and
ninety seven
words
“The End” stares
back
The clock ticks
Willfully blank
blank paper stares
past cereal bowl
remains
light through
still drawn curtains
and the clock
ticks
A non-writing
writer
Stares back
Blinks
And the clock
ticks
Always ticking
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