Writer's Block
What is this strange constipation?
From a man who conducts litigation?
I cannot speak write or think,
my affect is simply to blink.
Like opposed magnets my pen deflects off paper.
My mind sends me IOU's for later.
I am impeded like a stroke.
No help from a joint toke.
La dee da, my friends joke,
'where now is that auteur'?
Not that their taunts make it worse.
I can't produce one line of verse,
nor upon any topic can my mind focus.
The advice on writer's block is all hokus-pokus.
So I must resign.
No muse this time.
but other times I will shine,
and then be closer to my prime.
Copyright © Seth Diamond | Year Posted 2016
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