Giving Birth (May 4, 2019)

A vast void

Awaiting input

From a stalled press

Starved of fuel

Once more.

Like the universe

Before the “Big Bang”

The explosion

That created everything.

My thoughts are

A creative mixture

Of untold ideas

Awaiting delivery.

Bounding around

Inside my brain

Colliding with each other

As new expressions

And thoughts emerge.

And yet

Here I am.

Staring

At the computer screen

Forcing my fingers

To start typing

These elusive words

From my mind.

Knowing

Many will result

In a miscarriage.

Or worse

A stillborn.

As the tears

Roll down

My face.

One painful sigh

After another

Escapes my lips

With each occurrence.

At the death

Of an idea

Before its time.

As my soulscape

Slowly fills up

With mental markers

For each stillborn idea.

A time of mourning

Is required

Before moving on

With the next one.

In giving

The previous idea

Its proper respect due.

Renewing

My creative process

At the beginning

Once more.

Therisa © 2019

Author’s note: Not sure, if it’s the late start for spring, or real life, getting in the way, but I

have been struggling, with my writing, for most of 2019. It would be so easy to blame

others (like President Trump and the conservative horde that wants to rule the world,

with their hate filled ideology), instead of, looking deep inside of myself, for the root causes.

So, here I am. Seating before the computer screen, typing out my heart, for all to see.

Maybe, inspiration will find me, and guide me, to the next step that I need to take. In my

physical and mental healing. One can, only hope so.

Constipated (April 14, 2018)

Oh Goddess

It hurts so much

Just want it to end.

Please?

Feel so plugged up

With no end

In sight.

Oh crap!

Explosive diarrhea

Overflowing everywhere

Forced to hang on

For my dear life.

As words erupt

Before me

At ever alarming speed

Unable to control.

Breaking down

My massive depressive

Writer's block

Of nearly two years.

Gentle sigh

Escapes my lips

As happy tears flow

Down my face.

Easing the tension

Been carrying

For so long.

Therisa © 2018

Author's note: Just being a little naughty here. :)

The Prisoner's Letter (May 29, 2016)

If

You're reading

This.

Then

My muse has escaped

From this inferno

Of Hell

On Earth.

How

I don't know.

But

She has.

As

I write this

On a scrap piece

Of paper

Lying nearby.

Not knowing

The next time

I can write.

If

At all.

Therisa © 2016

Author's note: An exercise, to break up, my writer's block, caused by, the nasty heat wave that has southern Ontario, under it's grip, for the past week and showing, now signs of letting up, soon.

An Overstayed Visit (April 10, 2016)

Nada

Nothing

Zero.

My poor Muse

A shivering lump

Under my blankets.

Pouting

In protest

At the unseasonable

Cold weather.

As if

Ole Man Winter

Has lost his glasses

And can't read

His smart phone.

Not realizing

He has overstayed

His visit

By three weeks

And counting.

Myself

Just want

That final big snowstorm

Marking his departure.

As I do

My striptease

In removing

My various layers

Of winter clothing

Until next November.

Therisa © 2016

Author's note: At the time, of the first pitch, between Toronto Blue Jays, and the Boston Red Sox, the temperature was -3 C (April 10, 2016). A very unseasonably cold April day, for the Toronto area. The predicted temperatures for the following week are suppose to be, more seasonable norms, for this time of the year.

Before The Coming Storm (February 18, 2016)

www.flickr.com

Like tumbleweeds

Blowing across

The semi-arid landscape

Of the southwestern

United States.

My mind is devoid

Of any rational thought

As the mental winds

Brush away

Any possible idea.

Leaving behind

A barren soulscape.

Awaiting

The gentle

And nurturing touch

Of a poetic shower.

Never have

Experiencing it

By my soul

Or body.

The type

One sees

In the distant

Mountainous horizon.

As a moving curtain

Darkening

The nearby sky.

Renewing life

Once more

With a tender kiss

On the cracked lips

Of one's soul.

Bringing life

To the once wasteland

As words blossom

All around me

Once more.

Therisa © 2016


Author's note: For the past 48 hours, I have been struggling with writer's block, am hoping this poem has lifted this burden, from my shoulders.