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.
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