Posted in Poetry, plays, etc., Re-blog

indescribable agony

I’ve looked at blank pages and wondered where to start; but this looks at it from the opposite perspective. As if a thought had come to the poet, and had been lost before they had time to write it down.


indescribable agony

of a blank page;

all that remains

of a poet’s dream


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"I have forgot much, Cynara! gone with the wind, Flung roses, roses riotously with the throng" — Earnest Dowson, 1867 –1900 Non Sum Qualis Eram Bonae sub Regno Cynarae (1896) (Excerpt)
The lovely image of an owl is courtesy of Michael Gäbler [CC BY 3.0], via Wikimedia Commons. The coffee image is public domain

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