How I End Writer’s Block

I write something. Anything.
A few words. An image.
Maybe candles. Maybe a configuration.
Something. Anything
to break the logjam.
An act of will more than thought,
my rusty sword swinging
all Jaberwocky-like, hoping to punctuate
by sheer insistence, my own emotions
and make them bleed.

About this poem

Most people think because I write almost every day, I never get writer’s block. Nothing could be more false. But I write anyway. Sooner or later, my brain gives up and helps me.

Tom

PS: The picture was taken in a church in Venice, Italy.