Writer's Block - A Poem

By B.L.Cann


I haven't a clue what to think or to do, so I sit at the "Miggy" instead, But inspiration somehow evades me, I'd be just as well off in my bed! "I've got writer's block" I yell, throwing a sock, which promptly sticks to the wall, Then I set a stop-watch and settle right back, as I wait for the beggar to fall.

As time passes on and I search for a clue to a subject on which I could write, The day passes by, with my fruitless search, until it has turned into night. With sock stuck to the wall, I contemplate all, until it's a mass in my head, But still have no clue about what I should do, so I wearily set off to bed.

At quarter past three something has awoke me, my thoughts are as clear as can be, "I'll write down a poem, a strange sort of one; and the subject matter will be me !" As out come the words in an endless stream, and appear in order of verse, I wonder at how it was so hard to do, and if writer's block gets any worse ?

Now ideas are coming to me thick and fast; my fingers can hardly keep pace, Coffee is required to keep mind alert as articles appear all o'er place. At last thoughts and images kept in my head are put on a computer and all, I sit back in triumph, and laugh as I watch-----that flaming sock fall from the wall !