Here's a simple poem that came to mind.
There was a time when words flowed through me effortlessly.
Then the bubbling well dried up.
The silence that was forced on me made me unable to string three words together.
Ideas jostled in my head, ramming against the inner walls.
Seeking but never finding that much needed release.
The feeling of being trapped at the bottom of a dry well.
Where light rays would refuse to enter.
A lost cause, as if it were, that no one was willing to adopt.
Despair and helplessness crowded together in the frame of my mind.
Not a pretty picture at all, as any one could plainly see.
Loneliness, like a single pebble trapped in a metal can, rankled.
Anything positive would fly away the minute it saw the gloom prevalent in my mind.
But cyclic is the nature of life and no matter how hard you try.
You can want to hang on to a situation with all your might, still it will turn.
In that desolate and arid landscape once again a spring burst forth.
Waters cooled the parched earth, flowers of ideas began to blossom.
Once sequestered and reclusive words flow through me again.
Words are spoken, thoughts are expressed, the circle has turned a full cycle.