Somewhere between the now and then
A biblical calm is scattered
An envy staves this poet’s pen
A writer who can’t find the words
How strange it seems that overnight
I’ve become poetic dullard
It’s nearly physical my fright
A writer who can’t find the words
Never again my words to be
This change of heart has me cowered
The hold this loss has placed on me
A writer who can’t find the words
Voice – pen, all is one, one is all
Says those with the means to be heard
What’s there to hear when silence calls
A writer who can’t find the words
My dormitory holds no peace
The mystical moist night air girds
All jibes or remarks’ sweet release
A writer who can’t find the words
Indoctrinate to gratify
Failing what I thought mastered
My thoughts once swift to satisfy
A writer who can’t find the words
My soul feels desperation’s score
Like knowing prayers won’t be answered
How the cold silence stretches for
A writer who can’t find the words
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A return to the Kyrielle from, entered intodVerse ~Poets Pub | FormForALL – Kyrielle
Raivenne-lations 
Ironically, you did indeed find the words. I now frequently have the same feeling when I speak.
a rather scary thing for me when i can not find the words….i would hope my writing voice never to be silent or something to happen that would cause that…smiles. i think my sould might get a little desperate as well..
The empty page, the intimidation of the blankness, the silence, the gibberish instead of speech..I know them all and fight that block every week. Only with persistence can I move that block and find my voice. Here so beautifully using that form that brings mercy, you wrote your block away. Kudos!
Well, for a writer who can’t find words, you’ve done pretty good. Happy Holidays!
I love your opening line. Sometimes the first line of a write will pop into my mind and the rest will unfold. Seemingly as yours did here…beautifully, within the form.
That last refraining line resonates ~ Lovely form as well ~
Beautiful, loved it. Sickness silenced me yesterday so your poem deeply resonated, thanks 🙂
Knowing that prayers won’t be answered and then seeing the words come anyway, is a deep insight.
What frightens me more than not being able to find the words to say what I want/need to say is not having anything to say at all.
lost for words, gaping nothingness on white paper.
like the way you found your words, collected them and formed them into a praise for writing.
Seems, you broke the blankness. Well done!
One of the scariest feelings . . .
I often think the last thing I wrote was truly the last thing I’d ever write. But the words. They always seems to line up and settle down.
One would think with the literal hundreds of poems I’ve penned these past few years I’d satisfied with my lot, but as my fellow wordsmiths can attest there’s always more to be said.
My many thank you all.and may all our quills and parchments remain ever full.