Musings

I think about writing
I dream of being a writer
Fanciful thoughts in my head
A menagerie of scenes and plot twists
I congratulate myself for my cleverness
Yet not type a word

The night becomes morn and this is the day!
Alas my enthusiasm wanes
Distractions nudge me
The day is lost
But tomorrow, aye tomorrow, will be my day

Words spilling onto a page
Dancing fingers upon the keys
Oh what could be
As I come to realization
I haven’t written a word

Still, what imagination!
What raw potential
What could be if I just sat for a few hours
I mean, I enjoy sitting
And my computer knows me better than my wife
But I write not

Oh come my muse
Take my hand, my pen
Scrawl something down will you?
Why in this hour am I forsaken?
2000 words I could write,
Oh muse just give 1000
Begrudgingly I will take 500
100?
50?
Tomorrow then!

And this plays out throughout the years
Perhaps arthritis will strike my hands
Before the epoch is written
Father Time, give back my fervor of youth
My bloody mindedness
God considered me to be a prophet
Then said” He just doesn’t write”

Ah but when I do! I am the composer
A symphony of words lifts from the page
I play those keys as good as any concert pianist
My words incense to the heavens

Oh it’s marvelous to write
Write little and often
Or pour your soul onto a page
Deep into the night

But the days are few
When obsession strikes
Days when if you do not write
Surely you would die
Your words save the world
From an explosion of thoughts and ideas
When the kettle boils,
Enact your vengeance on the world with a pen

That searing volcano of writing compulsion
Save mankind and get it out quick!
You’re the hero for writing
Lest your words be swallowed by the void

So today I will think and dream of writing
And maybe, just maybe, tomorrow I will write
Or perhaps the day after..