Oh, woe is me, my mind is blank today!
My Muse has flown; I don't know what to say.
Outside the sky's a dark and dismal gray,
and all the singing birds have flown away.

Inside this study where I pen my verse,
a guest dropped in that's called the writer's curse.
He glumly hangs about and won't disperse,
in spite of all my efforts to coerce.

I look around and see a messy sight
of pages wadded up and crunched so tight,
as if with him I've had a paper fight.
Oh, how I wish he'd take an endless flight!

I think I'll go indulge in something sweet.
Frustration always makes me want to eat.
Perhaps when I am stuffed he will retreat,
and then some verses surely I'll complete.

But if he doesn't I won't care a whit;
I'll bake a cake and eat it -- every bit,
and when the pounds add on to where I sit,
it's him I'll blame when clothing doesn't fit!

Copyright 1996 Ruth Gillis

Published in the January/February 1997
issue of Poets At Work

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