A wide screen for words a keyboard full of meaning and yet nothing comes

Writing
A wide screen for words a keyboard full of meaning and yet nothing comes
Nobody came Nobody saw Nobody heard my mousey roar Nobody laughed Nobody cried Nobody even bloody tried Nobody looked Nobody… Read more Nobody Came
Why am I writing? Though no one will read these words they are all I have.
I’ve been thinking about what life will look like ‘afterwards’, the thing people are calling the New Normal. Wouldn’t it… Read more The New Normal
These are such interesting times. In a few weeks, the world will start to emerge from the lockdown imposed in… Read more Get Ready For The Future
Writing at night time It seems the right time for me Not the bright of day
The end of the day, quieting and settling down, my mind still on fire.
Some days you wonder why you bother. You sit and you search and you find them, these unwilling words, you… Read more Nobody Even Looks
In an obscured room, trying and failing to write. Reworking, rewriting, retrying. Failing again. A pause. The moment settles on… Read more The Moment Settles
On the days when words won’t come paint pictures sing songs read writers perform poetry note nature love your other… Read more When Words Won’t Come
A day for writing and every time I begin I stop at the start
What I wrote today Nobody will ever read This is right for me
Reading your own work It makes you sad and happy Like being in love
I know what I need A bright, warm, well-lighted place Away from it all
If no-one reads it The work that you sweat over Is it worth writing?
Reading John Carver Just what happens to people Small stories of life
This writing thing, it seems like a curse some days. It makes me no money and takes all my thinking,… Read more This Writing Thing
This is so selfish Sitting, writing, creating But I must do it
A window of time Opens now to get things done The clock is ticking
A dead, empty room But a clean, well-lighted place For untold stories
Days spent not writing Spent on the dutiful things Are days lost to me
(with acknowledgements to Charles Bukowski) I sit here on the 3rd floor hunched over in monochrome walking clothes pretending to… Read more Now, Then
Writing for nothing This is how it has to be Living for writing
Sounds all around me Clatter and chatter and noise Just give me silence
Failing at writing I start to blame everything Except for myself