Oh Muse, where art thou? I have writer’s block!
My riverbed of inspiration’s dry!
And it don’t matter how hard that I try -
I can’t refill it. Please do not me mock!
My brain electric has a power cut.
My pen appears to have run out of ink.
If I exist, wherefore can I not think?
Each time an idea comes, I then think ‘but’…
I wonder, are there pills to solve this plight?
Or can I see a counsellor, to talk
It over? Maybe going for a walk
Might clear the cobwebs. But here comes the night,
Depriving me of sight. Then, as dark falls,
At last I hear the Muse’s siren calls.
Fri 20 Oct 2006
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