To my dear "Friend" Writers Block *Way Edited*

Dry spell, dry spell,
go away!
Don’t come back,
any other day!

your like a lovely song, playing in my ear,
that begins to give me inspiration,
but then the radio turns to static,
and I'm left with nothing but annoyance.

My trash may be joyous and fat
full of balled up paper signs of surrender
signs of my will running dry
while trying to escape your barren desert

Ink tear drops fall from my neglected pen.
My paper left forgotten; no use for it now.
Oh, dry spell, you torture us all,
why wont you please just go home!

Your little cruel games are warring me down
but my pen is stronger then your sword
even now as you wield it at my throat
I'll come out on top, as the writer always does.

SilentRain wrote:
Dry spell, dry spell,
go away!
Don’t come back,
any other I think 'another' could go well here day!

You tease me with your ways
giving me just a line or two
then pull away my muse
and leave me with empty pages

You're like a lovely song, playing in my ear,
that begins to give me inspiration,
but then the radio turns to static, This sentence sort of breaks the flow of the stanza. Not to mention it's a bit random, because though 'a lovely song' is mentioned, when you write 'playing in my ear' the reader is given the impression that the music is coming straight from headphones or something.
and I'm left with nothing but annoyance.

My trash may be joyous and fat
full of balled up paper signs of surrender This may have worked better as: 'My trash bin is full of balled up paper,/ signs of my surrender
signs of my will running dry
while trying to escape your barren desert

In this desert you've trapped me in
each grain of sand is another unfinished line
and laid before me I see my failures,
my unsuccessful attempts at escape.

No clever lines; or beautiful words
can I transfer from my mind,
no spectacular imagery
can I put into words.

Ink tears drops fall from my neglected pen.
My paper left forgotten; no use for it now.
Oh, dry spell, you torture us all,
why won't you please just go home!

Your little cruel games are warring I think you meant 'wearing' me down
but my pen is stronger thenthan your sword
even now as you wield it at my throat
I'll come out on top, as the writer always does.

You were but a visitor in my humble home
but the thing with visitors is, they leave.
Now, it is time for you to be on your way,
your presents'presence' is no longer welcome in my mind not necessary.

Now when you go
done don't worry about returning,
if you’re needed, though I doubt toyou will be
I’ll be sure to let you know.

Good bye now
my dear "friend" writer's block.

SilentRain wrote:So, this is an EXTREMELY edited version of this poem, the spoiler at the bottom is the original post.

Dry spell, Dry spell,
go away!
Don’t come back,
any other day!

You tease me with your ways
giving me just a line or two
then pull away my muse
and leave me with empty pages

your like a lovely song, playing in my ear,
that begins to give me inspiration,
but then the radio turns to static,
and I'm left with nothing but annoyance.

My trash may be joyous and fat
full of balled up paper signs of surrender
signs of my will running dry
while trying to escape your barren desert

In this desert you trapped me in
each grain of sand is another unfinished line
laid before me I see my failures,
my unsuccessful attempts at escape.

No clever lines; or beautiful words
can I transfer from my mind,
no spectacular imagery
can I put into words.

Ink tear drops fall from my neglected pen.
My paper left forgotten; no use for it now.
Oh, dry spell, you torture us all,
why wont you please just go home!

Your little cruel games are warring me down
but my pen is stronger then your sword
even now as you wield it at my throat
I'll come out on top, as the writer always does.

you were but a visitor in my humble home
but the thing with visitors is, they leave.
Now, it is time for you to be on your way,
your presents is no longer welcome in my mind.

Now when you go
done worry about returning,
if you’re need, though I doubt to will
I’ll be sure to let you know.

Good bye now
my dear "friend" writers block.

\/ \/ \/ First try

Spoiler

Dry spell, dry spell,
go away!
Don’t come back,
another day!

My trash can may be happy
full of balled up attempts
to brake this spell
this writers block.

But oh so sad am I.
No clever lines; or beautiful words
can I transfer from my mind,
to the blank paper before me.

Ink tear drops fall
from my neglected pen.
Writers block, please go away.
If not for me, for my poor pen.

Paper left forgotten,
no use for it now;
and so it just fades away
into a pile of unnoticed dust

Oh, please, I’m begging now;
go take a vacation.
I’m sure you could use one,
you’ve been at me forever it seems.

Now when you go-
Oh, please do so soon-
done worry about returning,
if you’re need, I’ll be sure to let you know.

Dry spell, dry spell,
go away!
Don’t come back,
another day!

You tease me with your ways,
giving me just a line or two,
then pull away my muse,
and leave me with empty pages.

Your like a lovely song playing in my ear,
that begins to give me inspiration,
but then you turn to static,
and I'm left with nothing but annoyance.

My trash can may be joyous and fat,
full of balled up paper <which are?> signs of surrender,
signs of my will running dry,
while trying to escape your barren desert.

You were but a visitor in my humble home

my dear "friend" writers block.