dry spell

It is so nice of you
to ask about my poetry.
“Anything new?”
Only seeds
on fallow ground
my personal drought,
I reply dryly
through cracked lips,
my laugh the crunch
of leaves & snap of twigs.

In my hands this paper
browns and curls,
the pen melts,
and in flame
I remember
some seeds need fire
some brush must burn
before we grow. mjh

11/2/2003

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2 thoughts on “dry spell”

  1. I really love the subject of this poem, because what I got from it was a reflection on the feelings of writers block – and what a frustrating feeling that is. I especially love when you say “the pen melts.”

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