No ideas from the ether
It’s like someone closed the door
Chewed up spat out words
Find their place upon the floor
The puzzle pieces jar
All edges and no fit
The riverbed sits cracked and dry
The bulb’s no longer lit

But from the space within the small hours
No expectation and no strain
An idea tickles gently
A trickle starts again
A piece clicks into place
Then another and one more
The lightbulb of creation
Begins to glow once more

The heavy block dissolves
As a smile comes out to play
A reminder sometimes all that’s needed
Is to move out of our own way

I’ve found it hard to find my writing mojo again after a few weeks away from the keyboard, but I’ve realised the block comes from within. The more pressure I place on myself to write, the less likely it is to happen.

If you’re blocked, just start writing, don’t mind what comes, the trickle will become a flow.