I want to write! I want to write
But lack cohesive thought
I want my art to soothe and ease
But here I worry, fraught

My palate blank; I lift my brush
And sit at easel poised
Yet there is nothing, simply void
No inspiration noised

No words of froth or raging seas
No deepened chasm dark
No poignant light of ecstasy
But deserts blank and stark

And here I find ironic art
For in this poem I feel
A hedge of fog begun to part
As writers' block I kill

Nothing will fit,
I must admit,
The pieces to the puzzle,
Go in bit by bit,
The flame is not lit,
I just can't quit,
Looking for the answers,
Bit by bit,
The pieces still don't fit,
The answers remain hidden,
The flame is still unlit,
Nothing to do but,
Sit, sit, sit.