The Writer’s Block

Fan whirring, phone buzzing,

Water in the pan boiling away.

Pen chewed out beyond recognition,

yet inspiration keeps me at bay.

Racking my drugged brain for a spark,

my eyes wander around the den.

The cupboard, the table, the lamp and the book,

all seem to say, 'penny for your thoughts?'

Head in my hands,

pen still in my mouth,

I pray for Divine Intervention.

Writing used to be my release.

Did I lose touch with my emotions?

Is this a block?
I must find a way.

Or maybe just put the pen down?

Today is not my day.