Poem Revisited

I'm feeling the need to most certainly read
something I've written inspired.
I'm feeling an urge to jump in and purge
the thoughts from my muse so long mired.

But I'm stayed from the page by an old stubborn fear
that grips me and drags me away.
So I cling to my chair and blankly I stare
at my blog that's not writing just play.

In the night on my bed I can dispel the dread
with promise and furious intention.
But with the first light I awaken to fright
and black thoughts I no longer need mention.

The task is at hand you can strike up the band
there are pages already complete.
I just have to go and regain the flow
where the mind and the muse tend to meet.

But I stay locked inside and I so want to hide
from the work that I know I must do.
Despite and although that it's always been so
that to write is never to rue.

I know I can't quit I've too damned much grit
to leave this hard thing left undone.
So when it comes near I'll confront my fear
and write 'til it's hard on the run.


There, that's better.

And with that said, tomorrow a new piece.