Writer’s block

Isis Town and Country - - Opinion - By NANCE BUR­NETT

My cre­ative urge is dead, Flared and sput­tered, cold it lies. Never more it but­ter­flies Cater­pil­lar’s gor­geous guise; Ea­gle­hawk’s and dreamer’s eyes Never more will life dis­guise. Like a drought-drained dam re­lies Yearly on the stormy skies Poet-writer loudly cries: In­spi­ra­tion still de­nies. Life is old, too stale, too wise Likened to atomic skies. Thinkers then must com­pro­mise, Make each fel­low-man arise, Look about with child­like eyes. Wal­low not in stag­nant sties: Look where this “dead” urge has led!

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