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It's late at night, the TV's off, my emails have been read.
It's time to do some writing before toddling off to bed.
But writer's block has struck again, there's nothing in my head
Except for useless trivia that some other bugger said.
The fragments whirling in my brain, enough to drive me mad
Won't coalesce into a lucid sentence, that's too bad.
I'd tell about that great guy who turned out to be a cad,
Except that I don't have one, never will and never had!
Of course there was that dream last night, a regular nightmare,
I knew that I was dreaming as I tangled with the bear.
I struggled to awaken, I was filled with dark despair,
But then I woke to find the snarling grizzly was still there.
I screamed and grabbed his back leg and hurled him to the floor,
Then scrambled out of bed and hurried swiftly for the door.
When reality upped and bit me, I hadn't heard a roar.
My monster's eyes were made of glass, his fur was just velour.
Both my cats were startled by my early morning shout,
They wondered what the hell that ruddy fuss was all about.
But teddy caught the brunt of it, of that there's little doubt.
The fall, well that made mincemeat of his fuzzy golden snout.
It's the crack of dawn, the PC's on, with emails to be read.
I may as well make coffee now I've scurried out of bed.
But writer's block's still with me, there's stuff all in my head,
It's time to pack my writing in, imagination's dead!
© Sandy Parkinson August October, 2006. Word count 277
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