Where Is My Muse?

I have been trying to write this poem for an entire week now. It just won't happen.

I write poetry a little backwards. I start with a title and work from there. I get great ideas for titles, and then write off of my ideas from them. It's sort of how I compose blog entries too. I like titles. I like thinking of them. I especially like them when they are clever or when I can dodge and weave what I write around and then reach the idea expressed in the title in the conclusion. I'm a nerd. Sigh.

But this poem just will not go past this one line. I get poetry in spurts. I usually can sit down at one time and have it jsut blurt out of my head. But not this time. I have hit a wall. Ironic because the title is "The Turnaround" and begins "It's about that time: when eyes open/ and clarity reigns/ with abundance." Silly.

It was inspired by my recent resolve to make a mental turnaround thereby letting go of some of the mental deadweight that had been stressing me in the past. By the past I really mean 2006 which was kinda dumb. I don't mean to sound as if I'm troubled by a haunted past, just that it's about time I moved on from certain things and looked at others differently. Supposedly, my eyes are to open now, and clarity will "reign" in the place of confusion and unrest. At the time, it did, then it didn't... Now I'm stuck. Hopefully, I will get back on track.

Actually, here's the whole thing so far...maybe somemthing will jar out of me now:

The Turnaround

It's about that time:
When eyes open
And clarity reigns
With abundance.

My heart sings free.
Lyrics pour the sweet
Fragrance of
I once was blind, but
Now I SEE.

.....hmm, I read the last line I had written, and I hate it. In fact, I'll never be satisfied. But one day, it'll hit me again, I'm sure.
UNDER CONSTRUCTION. POEM CLOSED FOR REPAIR.

Here's one I wrote a little ways back while unable to sleep.

In Good Company

It feels so nice to be in such good company
I am never alone, never abandoned
My thoughts run rampant to the point
When I must sit up in bed and write.

Consume, conspire, these thoughts transpire
Twisting, turning, my mind is burning
I want to sleep, but my mind, eager to play
Won’t let me put to bed all I seek to escape.

Emotions, insufferable notions taking their toll
The harder I’m trying, the more I am dying
Death of sanity, death of my inspiration
Conscience and eyelids too heavy to bear

These old friends, these constant demons
Here to dance away my dreams without reason
Will smile and pose at their recognition
And give me one night out alone until I come running back.

That’s what I think.

CWJ 12/19/06 5:41am

Geeze, I sound like a nutcase. I promise I'm not. Really... But I am also working on a new one called "Heaven's Come" soooo, LOOK OUT!

Ok, enough of my wayyy too emo self for one night.

Will I ever be able to complete anything I start, kiddies?