An end to writer's block

I have been suffering through one of the worst writer's blocks I have ever had.  I went eight months without writing any poetry whatsoever.  That's pretty grim.  I did write my diary, although not every day.  I kept up on emails.  But when I sat at the computer to write, I ended up playing game after game of solitaire.  The wheels of my brain weren't even spinning.  They were stuck in ice & snow as thick as the ice & snow building up on the roof of my house.  

So I focused on other things.  Knitting, for one.  I finished a shawl, a scarf, & started an afghan.  I cleaned the house almost non-stop, clearing out closets & cupboards, filling bags & boxes, & giving things to charity.  I radically changed my diet & daily work-out & lost twenty-five pounds since the New Year.  

No matter what, I kept reading.  This winter I read novels by Jean Plaidy, Jane Oliver, Elizabeth Byrd & Anya Seton; poetry by Bernadette Mayer, Jonathan Brannen, Carol Watts & William Shakespeare, of course; & feminist political essays.  

I could feel the stirring of creativity with the moving of the geese.  I wrote a new poem the very first day of April and posted on my sonnets blog for the poetry challenge.  Within days, I was writing almost non-stop again & I was also working on collages, an art form I hadn't worked with in almost 30 years.  I do not pretend to be any kind of great artist or any kind of artist at all.  But I am having FUN.  Which is really all that matters to me.