My laptop and I,
Are relaxing on the dock,
The laptop is closed,
Due to writer’s block.
The sun is shining,
Warming my heart,
Thawing my mind,
So, it can do its part.
Never in my life,
Have I been this stuck,
It’s like having both feet,
Lodged deep in the muck.
I’m surrounded by beauty,
That would normally inspire,
My mind is not old,
Why would it retire?
A mutiny is under way,
Involving my brain,
Apparently, years of writing,
Have caused an irreparable drain.
As I sit here pondering,
I am bit by a snake,
My ass is on fire,
My laptop’s in the lake.
As I remove the snake from my butt,
And dive into the cool water,
I’m reminded of the wisdom,
Offered to me from my daughter.
“Dad,” she once said,
“You need to learn not to fret,”
“If you learn to take it cool,”
“You will never, ever sweat.”
I retrieve my laptop,
But I’m certain it’s dead,
Fortunately, the same,
Can not be said for my head.
A story about a snakebite,
Will be a good place to begin,
Perhaps a poem about a boxer,
Who takes too many on the chin.
Maybe I’ll go old school,
With a poem in free verse,
About my angry ex-wife,
And her ability to curse.
A Shakesperean sonnet,
Might be within my reach,
My adrenaline is peaking,
I think I might teach.
My brain grows a bit foggy,
I’m not certain why,
I forgot to return to the surface,
I am about to die.
I reach for the surface,
With one final pull,
As darkness overtake me,
And my lungs are now full.
The last thing I see,
Is the family dock,
So glad that I finally,
Overcame writer’s block.
