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Hey everyone I'm back.
i sit down inspired, by writings admired. passed down through the years, with passion desired. yet, it seems so much lately, i've been so uninspired.
Hey there all my Opuss comrades, It's so good to see y'all are still here.
I once had vision, colors of possibilities to entice me. Bold choices adrift in the ether, by me once set free. Woven design hung upon inspiration, my creation once at hand.
My lips are sealed I cannot speak My inspiration has gone, Should I admit defeat.
I don't know what to write I'm stuck for inspiration My head is just full of Annoying frustration Should I write a poem. A joke or a blog.
Ugh, I haven't updated Smells Like Teen Love in awhile and I'm getting kind of frustrated with myself.
Not got much to say today, My brains a little numb Trying to get my rhythm going but the words just won't come.
Where are you. I don't have a clue, What could have happened to you. One day you where there the next…poof. Without you ,my inspiration,I am dead too.
Sitting here, with pen in hand,. And book of parchment on my lap,. When all my thoughts drain out, like sand,. And all my words begin to sap,. The whole day spent, crafting these rhymes,.
Hi guys, for any of you who where reading my short story WW3, I'm really sorry but I've hit a bit of a dead end with it.
No matter how often I come to Opuss, it seems, All I do is stare At the composing screen I fill it up with stories Just to pass the time Sometimes I write poems That barley even rhyme But then I...
I stare at my black leather bound book,. Holding back blank parchment,. Next to it there lies my pen,. And then I realise, with a start,. I'm lost of inspiration,. Been pouring my words out,.
Cup of cold coffee,. Spilt on the floor,. 2010's calendar,. Taped to the door,. Sheets of scrap paper,. All cover the table,. Damp, yellow post-it notes,. Double as labels,. Boxes of ready meals,.
I miss the time when words came easily, when I'd spend my days thinking up ideas and my evenings writing them down.
Poor ol'@Stablish is racking his brains for a poem for me to write. He keeps on suggesting things but the idea isnt right. He's come up with all sorts of ideas but each are a blank.
If I could I would write a poem now. But my inspiration disappears somehow. But alright, I only want you to read something I post. But at night, that's when I post the most. I try to write a thing.
Haven't been writing much lately. I think I'm coming down with the dreaded writers block.
What to write. My inspiration, it's gone. Day or night. I always write two poems maybe one. Why?. Cant I write something good. My mind isn't being creative as it should. Now I am thinking and...
My sea of inspiration is running a little (a lot) dry, I sit with Opuss in my hands and all I can do is sigh.
The fire burns deep inside My yearning for to write But deep inside I cannot find The fuel to keep alight.
Inspiration where did you go. Nothing would please me more then for words to flow, Silence does not suit my keyboard. Please come back, please o' lord.
I really wish that I could cheat, But don't worry, I don't mean copy. That would be lies and deceit, But I really am getting sloppy.
Opuss, you seductive mistress. Unable to write. Void of ideas. Taking solace in a Tub of Ben and Jerry's. No harm in that??!. Fuck it. I forgot. I'm lactose intolerant. Oh Opuss!. How I bleed for you.