Stuck in a rut, a ditch,
Then again, maybe a canyon.
I yell and my words return
Echo after echo, a ricochet.
Each time I try to find my voice,
It rebounds a fainter rendering of itself.
Reminiscent of a story,
One told ad nauseam until it is no longer heard.
Story after story,
Poem after poem,
Groundhog day.
Where does the voice hide?
How does it break out of it’s own mediocrity?
It calls in hushed tones,
Knocks at the threshold waiting to be let in,
Though somehow I’m too late to answer.
So I wait, peering through the peephole,
For the sound of my voice,
To knock on the door again,
This time I’m ready.
~
~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~
Dom DiFrancesco 
Outstanding, in my humble opinion!
Thank you very much, I appreciate the nice comment. :)
You are most welcome. I look forward to future posts from you.
All too often we find ourselves in this position
Yes we do and I find that every few weeks this rears its head to some degree, but fortunately it tends to pass very quickly.
I really needed this one today!!! I’ve been kind of blocked lately.
It happens to me way more frequently than I like, but I find that writing through it, even if the writing isn’t very good is better than not writing at all. Thank you. :)
what is interesting about this situation – is each time it happens – you come up with a most lovely way to describe it – thus you are writing! It seems that the voice inside needs a little motivation – thus it robs you of your motivation, and thru your motivation it gets motivated to start writing again! Humph – you are like two people – the Dom person and the voice Dom. :)
I guess that is how I get over it, I just write even if it is about having difficulty writing (bizarre don’t you think). It must be my alter ego doing this. :)
wonderful sir..:)
Thank you my friend.