A few more writer's inklings

I'm having one of those moments when writer's block is really driving me nuts. I hate it. I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate it. I get ideas. My fingers get that itch that tells me they want to move. They want to type - hence why I'm on here. My fingers love the tactile pleasure of sliding across the keyboard. And my eyes enjoy the black words spreading across the white page. But the words that flow are nonsense. Inane ramblings that make no sense and are of no value whatsoever to anyone. It drives me crazy!

I started to write a poem about it, and got six lines.

The words are there,
Buzzing in my brain.
Hovering just beyond reach.
The sentences are cloudy,
Ghostly figures.
Not quite clear enough to recognize.

I'm going to start doing more writing prompts. Of course, I said that last time I had an attack of the writer's block blues too, and I never got anywhere. Ooooo... writer's block blues. See, that sparks all kinds of ideas and things in my head, but none of it clear enough to use. Stupid brain!