Writer's Block

head feels like an empty vessel
echoes heckle off the walls
stale ideas squirm and wrestle
to gain entry to its halls

slowly, but the barrier weakens
its light, absent any beacons
permeates, its reddish glow
standing pat against the flow

suddenly I feel it brighten
an idea does break through
an Olympian, a Titan!
...ugh, get back into the queue

is there nothing fresher pending
where one doesn't know the ending
an emotion yet untouched
saying little, but so much

hopeless is the task, I gather
well, at least there's no spilled ink
but there's nothing I would rather
(even if it turns to blather)
I shall sit here, and I'll think