Wednesday, January 22, 2014

Block Broke

A poet I admire once told me what to do
when inspiration's engine won't engage.
Just keep the cursor moving or the pen across the page
with whatever stuff and nonsense comes to mind.

Write about the block itself the weather or the news,
It doesn't really matter much at all.
The chicken in the crock pot with cilantro marinade
or the chocolate cake with frosting for dessert.

The dog is sleeping soundly on his bed beside the stove.
While in the furnace burn dead dinosaurs,
adding to the weight of atmospheric greenhouse gas.
It's ironic that the weather's so damn cold.

Tomorrow and tomorrow I will work an 8 to 6.
The shipyard is a place that doesn't sleep.
Destroyers for the Navy, lots of steel to 'fit and weld.
And on Friday wear a bow tie, ' cause it's cool.

I didn't mean the weather when I said "because it's cool."
I was thinking of the Doctor and his suit.
Though number four’s my favorite, with his jelly baby taste,
Eleven and his bow ties are quite smooth.

I've rambled on enough about this case of writer's block.
My consciousness won't stream another verse.
I hope that by tomorrow I'll be on to better prompts
With more meaning than this elemental curse.

No comments:

Post a Comment