Fingers poised above my keys,
Waiting for inspiration.
Brain not working, nothing coming.
Cerebral constipation.

Sometimes the words rush through my head,
Then Niagara Falls is flowing.
I normally have a lot to say,
But now maybe, it’s going.

Could it be a mental glitch?
A synapse not quite firing.
I sit and ponder on my words.
For once I find it tiring.

But in the end I know I’ll win,
I just hate to quit.
I feel the last line surfacing:
And this my friends, is it.

Brian Joseph Dickenson

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/writers-block-3/