Gabriels Horn. C. J. Black.

I’m writing this because; I have nothing else to do

But what I’m going to write about I do not have a clue

It seems I am totally drained of ideas to write about

Anybody out there with a hint – please give me a shout

It’s a good job you can’t see me on my hands and knees

What am I doing down here? I haven’t got a breeze

Looking for inspiration maybe, but down here it won’t be found

So I’m off to visit the word grave yard and tread on hallowed ground

The word grave yard is a scary place to go if you wish to be inspired

It’s where “dead” poets go when their minds are feeling tired

You’ll know them when you see them – muttering to themselves

Trying to cobble a poem together like busy little elves

They may nod at one another as they casually pass by

Unwilling to discuss their thoughts in case their ideas go awry

Suddenly you feel resurrected – a new lease of life you feel

You find yourself a subject on which to write – you’re on an even keel

What started out as a negative is now right back on track

You’ve succeeded in writing another poem you’ve got your Mojo back.

C. J. Black

27th March 2013.

 

 

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