Block

The bell chimed its last,
broken down and fast
removed. A space stood
there, an empty stare
ran down her where
once was a smile.

Here was meant to stand, a stanza linking these two strands. It should have been poetic beauty, but try as I might it won't come to me. I sit mentally writing down half-phrases and shouting out in frustrated rages. My mind's a cage, my mind's a cage - and the key is lost. Search the page, it would help. Hurry! Find it! Lest I beat my fists bloody against the wall in a desperate search for enough emotional intensity to return to me my creative propensity.

I was asked to behold
a tower circled by the
radiant heat of marigold,
but I stand in a panopticon
of the soul, and I am so cold.