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Exquisite Corpse and Other Collaborations - 8. Blank Paper

New Exquisite Corpse poem by myself and @Mikiesboy. Believing that you'll never get your writing mojo back is a depressing place to be.

Here, we wrote 4 stanzas. As usual, I shared the last line of my first stanza with tim, he shared the last line of his first stanza with me, and back and forth until we were done. Then, we revealed our full stanzas to one another, combined them into one piece, and created this completely unedited poem.

Most days it feels pointless

To pick up a pen, to put thoughts on paper

Because who really cares what I have to say?

My thoughts are a jumbled, worthless mess


Once my head held stars and cities

Now skies are black and houses empty

There are no stories, no hope or dreams

Only emptiness lives here now


Those moments of abundant clarity

When inspiration launched forth in waves

Have become few and far between,

Imprisoning me in vacuous isolation


This blank paper taunts me,

I can hear its hollow laughter

All the words are dead

There will be no resurrection

Thank you for reading.

Copyright © 2018 MacGreg, Mikiesboy; All Rights Reserved.
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As always, I am stunned when I read these, and see how in sync you are. This poem is both beautiful and heart wrenching at the same time. It reminds me of a writer in a serious bought of writer's block, and because of that is struggling not to feel worthless. Spectacular job, Mac and tim.

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Yes, this sounds like writer's block, and it was sad to read. But, certainly, anyone that could write this is NOT experiencing writer's block! Or, at least, not experiencing a loss of inspiration.



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This makes me sad. Both of you are so talented. ... you are so good together here...elsewhere perhaps?

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This is both beautiful and heartbreaking. Together, you have produced a poem of two minds understanding one another’s hurt. 

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There is not an appropriate emogie for this one.  We need a heart giving the teardrop a hug!


9 hours ago, Mikiesboy said:

Mac Sir and i can write poetry ... it is not the problem


If you can wax poetic the spark is not gone, just resting.  Something will present itself and demand to be written.

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I believed you helped each other by writing this, but I'm sad to think two such gifted artists worry their creative powers won't reach people anymore. As you can see from the response to this poem, that is not the case. Hugs for both of you


Edited by AC Benus
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