by Dave Ryan
A writer and his muse have a falling out.
The subject is left up to me;
no obstacles placed in my way.
Let thoughts and ideas run free!
Let Rome now be built in a day!
Such stories await to be told;
such sadness, indifference, glee!
A true sensory overload!!
They'll gasp at the wonder of me!!!
Come, Muse, don't sit there in a huff;
there's work to be done over here.
I'm sorry, your last piece WAS duff.
Some bad news you DO have to hear.
Well, in your own time - don't hold back;
you DO know I have a deadline?
It's no time to shirk or to slack,
or hunch in the corner and whine.
I haven't got all day you know;
for God's sake grow up! Act your age!
Let's see creativity flow...
...get some bloody thing on the page!
So that's how it's going to be;
you're just going to squat there and pout.
The time's nearly quarter to three.
I've got to get some damn thing out!!!
You think I can't do this myself?
I can't write a word without you?
I'll show you, accursed foul elf!
Just sit in the corner and stew!
I've managed to do this before;
it wasn't that difficult then.
I'll use MY ideas once more!
Now where did I put that damn pen?
Huh, Muses are just so passé;
your heyday has been and has gone.
I'm ready to rejoin the fray!
A matter of brains over brawn.
So now I must warm to my theme;
Ideas will come soon enough.
They'll flow like a wild mountain stream.
You sit in the corner and huff!
OK. Let's jot down the first line;
once that's there the blockage will pass.
I'll just have one more glass of wine.
"There was a young man from Madras..."