With eager pen I sit to write words that refuse to come
As the ailment of all writers holds my brain
That lack of inspiration that can strike by day or night
That drove many writers to the drink and more insane.
No hook of subject can I from my past call to mind
No image startling makes the ideas flow
No muse or great inspiration can I find
To spite all the opinions I have and all I know.
This, it known as writers block, a writers curse
Which all writers have had from time to time
But in times passing it gets better - though sometimes worse!
It is the intellectual mountain we have to climb.
To be a writer is a blessing, it is said
To be a writer can be torture too
Which is why all the masters are long dead
And the pretenders, such as I, are all too few!
I hope that on a day to dawn
My words shal by someone sometime be read
And they at wy writings will not yawn
But enjoy... even long after when Im dead.