Tuesday, December 5, 2023



I come to the keyboard with a blank stare
and an empty head. Gone, gone,
the days of connection, words traveling
from my head, down my arm, firing my pen,
coming faster than I could write.

I call on the Muse,
who stopped listening
some time back,
when I started harping on
the climate crisis,
boring everyone
and accomplishing nothing
other than relieving
my angst.

I come to the keyboard,
because what else is a poet to do,
after 62 years of tap tap tapping?
The engine coughs, sputters,
grudgingly catches fire.
Fingers find the keys.
On the white screen,
some words fall out.
Who is writing?
No matter,
I am grateful for the words.

The "process" of someone who has been
seriously fatigued by the act of living.

LOL. Best I can do, my friends. Apologies to all bards.

for Desperate Poets  where we are contemplating our creative process - not very creative for me these days, as I have become a mute observer at the sorry spectacle of this erratically spinning/warring world.


  1. Alas, sometimes the muse is hiding....or has to be cajoled to appear. Eventually the words do come...thankfully.

  2. I do understand that loss of connection between head and hand as we get older. It is a frustration. And writing about the climate crisis, environmental and social injustices to free yourself from angst. Who is writing...lol I too have thought that but I am always grateful for the words. Thank you for your poem. :)

  3. Don’t sell yourself short. I didn’t write for years and I’m not really sure why. Life got in the way I suppose. Hopefully never again, as I have a bit of a knack for it. I enjoyed your contribution.❤️🙏🏻

  4. I too seem to have words only for climate or war... not sure who those words are reaching.. it is frustrating, no more than that... but what else are poets to do? :(

    1. If everyone who's been humming along with the corporate chorus about "global climate change" had been, or were now, writing about what person was actually seeing happen in the environment and was doing about it...!

      (I've typed a lot of words about war and put them on probably-permanent-draft status.)

  5. It wouldn't be creative process if there weren't darkness and light, gushing streams and drought. Where you are now is an intimate integral. Taking on the world is a responsibility of the poet but leaving the work to others is another necessary task. You can just walk the shore and sing. Thanks Sherry.

  6. Relieving angst must count for something, I think. The muse does seem to drift away at times. I suspect she shall return for you friend.

  7. yep, Sherry, sometimes there is nothing there, then like you say other days there are too many ideas...they are the best days! Inundated with rain here in Van! JIM

  8. I find that it is extremely difficult to write on topical matters such as climate or current events. It can be done, but it's rare; such subjects lend themselves much better to essays or articles than poetry, which tends to end up prose-y in the attempt. Poetry is better suited to the personal, which you do well with.


Thank you so much for visiting. I appreciate it and will return your visit soon.