Lost The Plot

I have a plot
An idea in my head
It rolls around like liquid gold
And then stops dead, like lead.
I wait for the catalyst
That will transform base thought into gold prose
It comes in the form of
The rain, your smile, my dreams, a wild rose.



I have a plot, a faint idea of what I want to write and it rolls around my head like liquid gold out of the melting pot. I just get to the point where it starts to make sense and its stops. It is as dead as lead. The thoughts are gone, the ideas won’t settle. I have to wait for a catalyst, some spark that will ignite the reasoning pathways through my brain. It comes in the form of many things; the streaming grey rain, your smile caught as the sun bathes the room, my dreams that swirl like ink in water and the wild rose as it trails the fence.


RP


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