The blank page kept staring at me

As my pen refused to move

And there it was again, the emptiness.

It’s a familiar sight, I see it every night

As my head touches the pillow

And I shut my eyes ,

It looks like a dark pit, with nothing in it

Just the sound of distant whispers

Loud whispers of nothing, echoing in emptiness.

How does one put his vacantness on paper,

How do I write about that nothing on my mind?

No joy, no pain, shouldn’t I be calm like a monk?

Why the chaos then, why the chaos in this stillness?


Inspiration : How ironic that my inspiration for this piece is the lack of inspiration, the nothingness. A poem about not being able to write a poem, I think it’s funny in a way.

Photographer Unknown
Poetry © Copyright 2016, Opinionated Head