Some days when I stare at the next blank page
All I can think of are tired clichés
Or banal expressions of surface clutter
And then I think of all the misery that plagues us
Or the corruption at the top that keeps us infected
Which leads me to a heavy sigh moment
That sends a chill into my fingers
So I stare out the window and it’s raining
There’s no bright ray of sunshine illuminating the garden
Just like there’s no bright spark of love in my heart
Although it keeps sending out reconnaissance missions
While maintaining a cordon of armed sentries
So that blank page with its high-pitched whine starts to be irritating
I make a false start with ill-chosen words
Check Facebook and like a half dozen memes that friends have posted
Share two of them
I try again and still the page remains blank
I deal a hand of solitaire
I lose
I go to the grocery store
Hoping to find inspiration in the produce aisle
But I don’t
Even an endorphin-stirring workout
Produces sweat but little else
The page stays blank
I pray for inspiration
Nothing comes
So I write about blank pages and frustration
Nothing magical or inspired
But enough to spill a few words
Unblanking the challenge of emptiness
David Trudel © 2013
createdavidt 
These Times
These are the days of remembrance
When all the yesterdays run backwards
Unspooling into starlight
These are the times of unclocked hopes
Times of desires and dreams
These moments are singularly fluid as they flow together
Washing over us
Sweeping us up in this unchecked flood
These are the days screaming of terror
Days of torment and torture
Days of lies and betrayals
Nailed with outrage
With the evil of indifference holding the hammer
These are the moments of indecision
When greed pleads to just keep on doing
Nothing
This is the moment of truth
This is the moment of untethered freefall
Plummeting from the edge of nowhere into hard fact
Knowing that an impact of some proportion is imminent
These are the days of chaotic destruction
These are the days of growth and creation
These are the everydays
Timeless times of everything bad and everything good
Running parallel in M.C. Escher mystery loops
These are the moments that get stitched together into patterns
Only to come unraveled and undone
These days are as permanent as a Tibetan sand mandala
Brushed and broomed into a corner
These are the days of remembrance
When all the yesterdays run backwards
Unspooling into starlight
David Trudel © 2013
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Tagged as blank verse, creativity, days, end days, free verse, metaphor, nature of time, poetry, social commentary, times, universal peace