A poem about writer’s block, and a steamy night!
Author’s note: Just couldn’t get in touch with my muse the other night. It was a bit warm and humid, extremely unusual for this part of the world. This ‘inner-talk’ kept rattling around in my head, interfering with the voice of my muse. Then I realized — it was my muse. This is what came through.
Uninspired
•
relentless whirr
cycled pulse drones
overhead
coarse whisper from above
promises relief
in vain
blades disturb page edges
at rest before me
in irregular rustle they taunt
impatient
untouched
virgin
undefiled
ignored
no burden of remorse
no weight of mystery do they bear
no sting of anger
no wink of mirth
with which to be dispatched
no coin of phrase to spend
dissonance spills through the open window
the buzz, chirr, and leggy rasp
muffled keens, distant yelps
the edgy din of crawling, prowling night
intrudes in damp insistence
to fill my head
and leave not one small space
for wit or insight
all in vain
there is no relief
nothing clever
or profound in the air this night
hot, sticky, thick
uninspired
…
rob kistner © 2007
Uninspired
•
a relentless whir
60-cycled hum
pulses and drones
overhead
this coarse whisper
promises relief
in vain
this place
soaked in midnight
clings to the soul
blades whirl and whoosh
a quiet thump
whump
whump
whump
whump
pointlessly
they cleave the swelter
and rattle pages
at rest before me
in irregular rustle
they taunt
impatient
untouched
no burden of remorse
no weight of mystery
do they bear
no voice of reason
or ring of truth
no sting of anger
no wink of mirth
with which to be dispatched
no coin of phrase to spend
nocturne
spills
through the open window
cacophonous
the buzz
chirr
caw
as twilight fades
the leggy rasp
muffled keens
darkness deepens
the stalking growls
distant yelps
low rolling howls
echoed cries
rising gibber
the edgy din
of crawling
prowling
night
intrudes
in damp insistence
to fill my ears
crowd my mind
to leave not one small space
for wit
or insight
all in vain
there is no relief
nothing clever
or profound
in this dissonant tropical night
hot
sticky
thick
uninspired
…
rob kistner © 2007
Even when feeling uninspired, your poet’s mind spills out these little gems – just look at these lines!
“no coin of phrase to spend”
“the edgy din of crawling, prowling night”
“dissonance spills through the open window
the buzz, chirr, and leggy rasp
muffled keens, distant yelps”
Hi Rob,
Nice poem! Your words-‘just could not get in touch with my muse’ remind me—my muse is a girl who lives across seven seas and doesn’t answer my emails/phone calls. 🙁
I have not used your image ‘Path to realisation-web’ that you gave me, for my post ‘The Journey’. I felt I should just leave the spiraling galaxy with a well lit galactic centre as the image for this post.
But I am thinking of using ‘Path to realisation-web’ for my upcoming post on enlightenment, a sequel to ‘The Journey’. Will let you know in advance.
I just added a new blog entry, which, in my view, proves beyond doubt that the intellectual approach to the ultimate truth (if there is one) is not enough.
http://vikram-madan.blogspot.com/2007/06/psychosis-or-transcendence-probing.html
Have a nice day!
Vikram
Let me know what you think of my art,(if anything!!!) at the blog-link I just posted, in my last comment, a few minutes back. I am an amateur, this is my first attempt at photo manipulation. Thanks.
Morning Rob,
Every sunrise is a new chance for your Muse to taunt, err… tease. I mean help you, yes guide you in the ever flowing mystery that is poetry.
I must say though, this is a very good piece you have here today. 😉
Rose
xo
I like the first few stanzas very much, they really take me back to trying to work in the enervating heat of Malawi.
I love it. I think we all feel that way sometimes with a blank paper staring us in the face. Good work.
Hi Rob,
Great picture of a humid-can’t sleep-can’t read-can’t think-night as a fan adds nothing.
I’m a Portlander, too, and it was muggy the other night!
Well done. I like it.
“dissonance spills through the open window
the buzz, chirr, and leggy rasp
muffled keens, distant yelp”
Wonderfully inspired by those words!
For one so “Uninspired, you inspire. This is a wonderful poem of words, sounds and images. Thoughts in the dark of night when our mindsrewind the day. Very well written.
I have not been here before but will return to this uninspired poet.
love-bd
Hey Rob!
Thanks for the open invitation on PT! Where exactly IS Image and Verse???
Well that’s the most inspired “uninspired” piece I’ve read in a while. It reminds me of growing up in the South, before air-conditioning was installed in our schools. It was hot, humid and miserable – so much so, that some days in our Advanced English class – in which we were supposed to write a 500-word essay every day – the teacher would tell us just to put our heads down on our desks, because it was simply “too hot to think.” And she was right!
And I’d love to be in Portland this weekend, drinking iced tea, eating delicious food and going out and about to all the events.
And thank you for your really kind words about my poem. I especially appreciate hearing the male perspective on these issues.
You inspired me with “Uninspired.” Wonderful expressions 🙂
Nice job! I love reading about poets not writing, yet somehow finding a way to write.
Pauline –
Thank you for your kindness!
The words were hard won that night. I think my muse was as hot and sticky as I was… 😉
Vikram –
Thank you!
You must be patient in relationships. If it is meant to be. love will find a way. If not, you will find a way to love — someone else.
Love always triumphs, even if the victory is not obvious at first. 😉
Vikram –
I will look at your blog tonight.
Rose –
Thank you for your kind words!
Yes, our muse — what a classic love/hate relationship. I wouldn’t have it any other way… 😉
Juliet –
Glad you enjoyed!
I grew up in the Ohio River Valley – summer was 95-100 degrees F, and 95% humidity. We never have humidity to speak of here in Oregon — so even a little taste, like the other night, gets under my skin now.
But I remember lying in bed at night as a young man, stewing in my own juices — been a long time since anything like that.
I’ve gotten soft… 😉
Christina –
Thank you!
Yeah — the ’empty’ page. Hard to believe anything some seemingly passive can be so damned cruel!! 😐
Deb –
Thank you!
Yeah, the weather is being strange — as usual… 😉
I was having a brain cramp trying to write the other night, so every thing felt extra uncomfortable.
Gautami –
Thank you my friend! 🙂
Living here in the foothills in this old growth valley. it sounds like every one of god’s creatures who can make noise, are making noise — and all doing it at the same time!
Melanie –
You are very kind — thank you for visiting!
Please do come back.
I will visit you as well — bd.
WD
You are here!
This is Image & Verse, and this is the barbecue… an imaginary one! 😉
But, now that you’re here — there are tini’s being mixed on the deck and brewskies in the fridge, help yourself!
Tara –
Thank you!
Yes indeed, I remember the later part of the school year in the Cincinnati, 95 degrees, 95% humidity, no air conditioning — whew!!!! No thanks! 😐
Your piece was very powerful — I was compelled to comment.
Tammy –
Thank you!
You are kind, as always… 🙂
January –
Thank you!
I have been lurking, admiring your work. Thank you for visiting Image & Verse! 😉
Sometimes, even swelled with feelings, words won’t come to define them. That’s what makes it so glorious when the words do flow!
This is great, Rob. When all else fails, be inspired by the absence of inspiration! I think it’s a victory to keep writing when you feel nothing coming, and this is evidence that it will indeed bear (delicious) fruit.
CG –
Thank you!
I am glad you found this pleasing… 😉
Getting to it for me was a bit like passing a kidney stone through my brain — it was painful, but there was comfort in the end.
“nothing clever
or profound in the air this night”
Sometimes we don’t see anything in our words
and other do. Nice one, Rob.
Pamela
Your creative block resembles closely my tinnitus. The subject raises more passion and inspired poetry than most others!
Full of humidity, in a poetic way.
Question: what do you write when you don’t know what to write?
Answer: what do you write when you don’t know what to write?
Pretty stupid old joke of a sort, but it still makes me laugh. And, like your poem, it is precisely what is in front of us to do when we see nothing else. What else? A good description you did right here and thanks.
Long time no see, stranger.
There are times my head buzzes and I can’t pull any words out, although I am desperate to cock my ears to my muse’s lips and listen. Sometimes, I only hear whirring and feel buzzing. I really liked the pacing of this. (due to your line breaks and the spacing of your stanzas)…I got the definitely feel of thoughts buzzing while on a walk…
-Nicole