I'm filled with a New Year's Day meal
I wonder if I would be able to think,
what kind of muse will dance in my mind?
Will writer's block bring me to the painful brink?
Another year is finally over
two thousand thirteen, has come and gone,
poetry still dances thoughout my mind
from dusk, until the break of dawn.
What kind of words will the mind envelop
now that a new year has begun?
Will I be able to pen better writes?
Or will writer's block leave me to get hung?
I wanted to start off the New Year, with my very first write. I'm hoping I can keep up with my poetry, instead of having writer's block kick in, to kick the tar out of me. I think if I always have words in my mind, the dance of the muse, will never be stopped.