Writer's Poetic Block Poem by Tom Billsborough
Writer's Poetic Block
My brain was fuzzy, nothing clear.
So I stuck the nozzle to my ear.
The Hoover sucked and I blew my nose
But what came out was merely prose,
Not a line that I could use
To offer to my starving Muse.
Just garbled thoughts, some quite obscene.
Fit only for a magazine
Which gents may glance at while alone
Or sitting by the telephone
Discussing with a Lady fair
Her body parts, allegedly quite bare.
But how does one indeed unlock
That infamy, the Writer's block.
I beg you now, I'm on my knees
For your suggestions, please!
This is quite infectious. I can understand what you are going through right now. Thanks.
But how does one indeed unlock That infamy, the Writer's block. /// Oh! but I'm not in block its writer's independent cloak! let writer write let writer be kite in every fighting let them be right ..............
YEs, let the writer be a kite. I like that one, Mahtab! a kite of many colours. sounds like a good subject for a poem. Go on.. get your pen out, my friend!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/20/2024 6:27:31 AM # 1.0.0.1119
the first four lines were whimsically written by a true poet So here you are, writing.. no problem and there is always Sudoku (I use joeur Sudoku site)
Not keen on Sudoku. But I have a magazine called Code Words and I download Google's Nonograms from the net. First thing in the morning it's always Black coffee (very strong Arabic) cigarette and usually two or three puzzles. Then I'm raring to go! And you are quite right.. writing! Giving the game away there1