Writer's block is a terrible thing

When ideas it doth not bring

A pen I cannot seem to find

And idea will not form within my mind

I feel as though this soon will end

Without a thought thus to spend


A poem I meant to write

But inspiration is not within my sight

Too much time on my hands there is

So a muse I need to train the fizz

And crackle of ideas that's here

Or just to write when they're near

Of ideas in dreams and a poets fear


I meant to write a jolly quirk

But nothing will surface through the murk

The weather fine

Shows no sign

Of things to write about

So I put down my pen now to shout

For some rain to complain about

A poet's life is an easy thing

Though no profit it doth bring

Tell me please if you do see

An inspired thought that comes to me


I need something someone to hold

If that is I may be as bold

For poems I still send

When from a headache I need to mend

On holiday even then to my readers I send in advance

A little sonnet left not to chance

Come now please dispel my block

For this poem rests on a rock

A rhyme I need for my line

Unless it's left for vultures on to dine


I give up I really do

This poem is officially through

A page is wasted on a thing

When the poet suffers not to bring

The readers look then go away

Knowing my poem has gone astray

Poetry and Prose Archives

Dr Anthea

08.07.04 Front Page

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