Writer’s Block

Sat down to write something,

My mind draws a blank.

To my head comes nothing,

Into my thoughts, I sank.

Thinking of muses to write about,

The sun, the moon and the stars.

Have my ideas worn out,

Or will people like a poem about Mars?

Gripping the pen in hand,

Experiencing a writer’s block.

Unable to bring my mind to command,

Letting my imagination run amok.

Forgetting is what I used to be,

Now my thoughts are empty.

You may say it is just my idiosyncrasy;

If only I had thoughts aplenty.

Forcing myself to write and write,

Wrote about my inability to do so.

The page in front is still white,

Why to my mind comes Van Gogh?

Can’t think of ways to finish this,

It’s so difficult to make words rhyme.

Which word should I put here: bliss or remiss;

Why do I think the best at nighttime?