Blog Post: Writer’s Block

There are few things more disheartening to a writer than acknowledging and admitting that they are experiencing writer’s block. Yet, this is where I find myself. Once again I am staring at a screen trying to find words to tell a story that I know every minute detail of. Trying though to put the words down is like writing in a foreign language, the words I use never seem right, nor do they do justice to the story I am trying to tell.

Like all things I know this time will pass, but now more than ever I am ready to embrace writing as a focus within my life. Indeed my work has improved, and been published this year, and I have found in poetry a means of expressing myself that I never truly believed I’d be able to access.

With time away from college, and prior to starting University in September I wanted to reflect on where this inability to engage with my work comes from, and the only correlation I can find stems from my experiences of depression. It is often when I am most depressed that I turn to writing, and in some respects that may be what happened last year.

Last September I was faced with my worst nightmare, and though I lived through it, my mother did not. My family lost her to sepsis, suddenly and gave us no chance to say goodbye. Twelve months have passed, enough time for the people around us to return to their lives, forgetting that ours would never be the same, nor any of us the same people.

As a full-time carer of a sibling with significant support needs, I had to step away from work and the burden of supporting someone with limited understanding through grief has been harrowing and beautiful, much like my mother’s death itself. I returned though to college even before my mother’s funeral, because I knew that if I gave up on writing then, I would never return to it, and not only did I complete my course, but got the A required to study at my university of choice.

I did all of this either sleeping on a floor, or a couch or eventually sharing a bed with my other brother. I have a flat twenty minutes from my parents house that I have been to seven times in the last year, and have slept in once since my mother passed away. The displacement which has come with facilitating the need of my family, has inadvertently stripped me of my entire way of life. No home, no possessions, no time to myself. Two or three hours of sleep per night, and no income other than student bursary. This is just the tip of the iceberg that has been my life, but it is something I have had to acknowledge and doing so leaves me with little else other than my pride.

And yet pride, is probably the thing I struggle with most. I find it difficult to commend myself, but this is something that I am working on and when I do stop to acknowledge the things I have done in this year alone I realise I have the potential to do so much more, but first I had to give myself the time to mourn, to grieve and to recover. Once my course was over, I found myself at home almost every day, with no work, and no time to get a job I was forced to acknowledge how hard this has been. But doing so was as necessary for the benefit of my own mental wellbeing, as it was for those I cared for.

I will start writing with purpose again soon, of that I’m sure. Until then, I will write. Whatever comes to mind, and when it becomes purposeful, I shall remember that time doing nothing can still be time being spent productively.

Zanze: Where Am I ?

Where am I now? Still lost at sea,

In an ocean of my own tears.

Lost like light on the horizon;

Then returning to sink again.

Where am I now? Still lost.

Have I been here before?

Asking the same questions

And answers do not change.

Where am I now?

I’ll ask again.

I look for


Where am

I going if

Not forward? Ever on.

Where am I now? Lost at sea.

Zanze: Last Year’s Sparrow

Last year’s Sparrow has returned plump

Egg heavy, she builds her first nest

No rest until every lump

Is removed, and her nest is best.

Last year’s Sparrow returned

She looks now for a first lover

Eager to show what she has learned

And ready to be a mother

Last year’s Sparrow

Sits on her eggs

Under narrow

Feathers and legs

Last year’s

Home now a stump

The Sparrow has no fears

Last year’s Sparrow has returned plump


Shout out to for her amazing prompt, ‘Last year’s Sparrow has returned plump’.

I really enjoyed writing this. 😊

Zanze: Help

I want nothing more than to ask

For help, yet I have no idea

How to start this most painful task

As I must acknowledge my fear

I want nothing more than

My opportunity

To walk where I have ran

From obligation free

I want nothing

Yet must take time

Never loving

This life of mine

I want

To lie and bask

Though fear will always haunt

I want nothing more than to ask

Zanze: Drinking Mate

Hanging out and drinking mate

Sharing Yerba with many friends.

Keep your skinny foam whipped latte,

I’d rather have that mate cleanse.

Hanging out and drinking

In bars is fine I guess.

Only my opinion,

But mate is the best.

Hanging out and

Spending time with

Friends on the sand,

Always a gift.


Out drinking late

Mate party banging

Hanging out and drinking mate.


Personal Blog: Icarus

I feel today like Icarus.

Though I found my wings with them I have flown too high, too fast and with no heed to that which lies beneath me.

Now as the wax melts, and my feathers float from my arms one at a time. I see each one and acknowledge how far it has carried me.

I weep, not because I am falling, but because I know that for a moment I was free, and that freedom may never come again.

Picture Prompt: Sunset

The Challenge:

Using this picture as inspiration write a poem or piece of flash-fiction. There are no set themes or genres, just write if you feel inspired to do so.

If you feel happy sharing your work, please paste it along with a link to your own work in the comments section and I will add all entries to the original post along with a link to your work.

My hope is to highlight the work of the many talented writer’s of WordPress and beyond; while at the same time Networking with those who take part.

Happy Writing. DSC

About Today’s Picture:

(At the end of each week, I will add your entries and links to your work to the original post. Along with a little more information about each of the pictures I choose.)

Zanze: Cilla Black

Cilla Black was a lorra laughs

Queen of Saturday telly

Proud, jovial, but never crass

As as beautiful as Grace Kelly.

Cilla Black was a lor

Of fun, and her singing

Was divine, wanting more

Cilla left you grinning.

Cilla Black was

A Saturday

Sensation lost

It’s hard to say.


May now have passed

But her memory thrills

Cilla Black was a lorra laughs.


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