Image credit: kornik
The pen is weary
All the ink run dry
Across a parchment scratches
Ideas lost in time
No new blood is drawn
From the pain of life
There are only tears
And banality
Nothing left for me
The screen is blinking
White to blind the eyes
No sound of typing
Punctuates the air
No inspiration floats
Within this dismal writer’s lair
Just dull despair
The pen once mighty
Now so brittle falls
A broken symbol
Of some long-lost day
The stuff of life
It covers like a shroud
As nuisance children
Just get in the way
With nothing left to say
(c) Helen Valentina 2015, All Rights Reserved
helenvalentina 
If this expresses a current condition, you have a companion similarly infected!
Thanks Philppa, it was true at the time I wrote it which was a while ago, but its probably no so far from the truth now! I find my writing comes in fits and bursts sometimes! I hope if you are infected with this at the moment that it lessens soon! 🙂
Oh Helen you sound so depressed—-hope it’s just a bad day
Thanks Len, I actually wore it some time ago, so all’s good now. 🙂
NOOOOOOOO *hands on head running out the door* Excellent.
Thanks John!! 🙂 🙂
same here 😦
Hope the feeling disappears quickly for you, it can be very frustrating! 🙂 🙂
Funny how we have spasms ..to write or not to write… That is the …. Glad you’re back on track H.
Thanks so much! Writing is s strange process sometimes. 🙂
I still often prefer pens over modern typing machines with flashy screens and all. Here’s a nice poem on pens https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=44sXwJgqUyc. Keep on blogging in a free world – The False Prophet
Thank you! 🙂 🙂
Beautiful!
Thank you, really appreciate your kind words! 🙂 🙂
Wonderful poem.
Thank you!! 🙂