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Rated: E · Poetry · Contest Entry · #1697448
It seems I can't write. What's the problem with me? My novel is waiting. Impatiently.
To see my book
in Barnes & Noble;
my name well-known,
my book read global.

But there’s a slight problem,
I’m in a bit of a rut.
How can I write a book
when I do everything but?

Blame it on the muse?
Well, that’s not really true.
I let other projects
Move themselves into view.

Christmas is coming
Can I really be blamed?
You see, my knitting desires
Are being enflamed.

But that’s no excuse;
What about after?
I see you reading this
And hearing your laughter.

The book that I’m writing
Is just eight chapters long.
Three years and one rewrite;
Something is wrong.

“Write a little each day” –
That’s sure not working.
Too many ideas in my head
Sit around while they’re lurking,

Waiting for me
to pick up my pen;
a new story begins
yet never “The End.”

Maybe someday I’ll see
My book on the shelf
But first I must conquer
One challenge – myself.

written for the August Paper Doll Gang Poetry Contest. line count: 36 lines
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