Inspiration or Lack Thereof

I am finding it hard to focus creatively, weighed down by a cowardly feeling always lurking in the shadows beyond the reach of my understanding. Trading in the suffocating tranquility of upstate New York for the chaos of the concrete jungle and its ever-present noise has not been as beneficial as I first imagined. Day in and day out, I stare at my pens collecting dust and wonder what, if anything, I'm missing out from the world of the muses. I have stopped trying to find reason in my exclusion from their visits, though I find myself looking back at the days and nights they came to me in droves, each carrying a vision as unique as the tales they inspired.
Maybe one day they will return or, maybe, they have found another door whose hinges exhibit not the slightest spot of rust and whose hinges glide without complaint. I work hard at preventing myself from anger and frustration...from throwing in the towel and heading back East. I've bared my pride for picking, and my skin hangs on my bones like a dejected soul.
Soon - I hope sooner- they will come back with tales from lands further away. They shall tell of new faces, new heavens, and new hopes. They shall have new expectations, too, so I have to get better at transcribing what their eyes had beheld. Then, and only then...

My Work

Going over some of my work, I have no idea what to think of them. On one hand, I like what I'm reading, but on the other...not quite what I want yet.
I'm submitting some poems to different places tomorrow and more in the coming weeks. I wish there was a pill for motivation, as there is a noticeable difference when I write for the sake of writing and not from inspiration.
Anyways, here's the Kindergarten Kid I used to motivate my students with, I think I need to motivate myself, so I will post it here.
Also, a link for submitting your work, if you weren't aware of it already: http://www.newpages.com/literary/submissions.htm