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Twilight falls, yet before the next dawning,
As a decent night’s sleep they do mock,
Writers pause, knowing soon they must welcome the moon,
And that ancient fiend called Writers’ Block.
They hear in the wide world around them
Peaceful sounds of all others asleep,
People tucked in theirs beds with no thoughts in their heads,
With no Writers’ Block making them weep.

From their midnight desk soon writers see an
Idea peek its head up! It wiggles!
It’s that fine op’ning thought, just
the right words they sought,
Then the Block sticks its tongue out and giggles!
At that moment the idea goes fleeing.
Writers know it’s no use to give chase.
For the Block is so clever, that pursuing words ever
Only makes one more red in the face.

So seductive are these little “temptings”,
All these marv’lous ideas died a’borning.
First they charm and seduce, then those damned Blocks reduce us
To voiceless, dull clods without warning.
For that’s all they do, these ridiculous
Thoughts , and are then Blocked away.
Creativity’s bane, driving scribblers insane,It’s no wonder we shut down and say:

“ I can’t do this no more! I can’t write! I’m a whore”
“Just take my bad writing and burn it! ”
When I call myself “writer” my shame burns the brighter
Because I’ve done nothing to earn it!
I sit there for hours and ponder
Can’t think straight, yes, I’m frozen with shock!
I am stopped by the wall known to one and to all
As the black-eyed imp called Writers’ Block.
Curséd Block, icy cold and unyielding,
Creeps like fog and obscures my way home.
Stubborn, mean and insidious, nothing is more perfidious,
When I’m writing a memoir or po’me.
Writers’ Block makes me sit in a corner
Trembling, weeping, so pitiable to see.
Though I know I’ve a story, damn this Writers’ Block , for he
Sits firmly between it and me!
So, we writers, we live with this worry.
We think here’s where we’ll always be at!
“Writers’ Block seems to stay! It will never go ‘way!
Just let me say this about that:

Writers’ Block is as ancient as Time is,
And it’s plagued all the greatest of greats:
Plato, no doubt knew well of the Writers Block hell,
Shakespeare struggled, I bet, with his Fates
As he etched out each glorious 5-act,
In iambics hard won, every verse!
Danielle Steele, Grisham, Rowling, no doubt were sent howling
Into silence, by the Writers’ Block curse!
But they all did endure, were triumphant,
Even thrived, despite knocking their shins
On that obdurate Block that throws all into shock.
In the end, it’s the WRITING that wins.

Writers’ Block is an unwelcome visitor,
Taking up too much space in our heads.
But, with no staying power, (it rents by the hour),
Though it may drive us back to our beds
Still it’s only a temporary roadblock
That you might well put wisely to use,
For it’s true, as some say, deeper thoughts come this way
And perhaps, ‘round the Block they produce
Better writing than you e’er imagined
Could poss’bly flow forth from your pen!
So, hold thought assuring: your talent’s enduring!
Though it may feel you’ll ne’er write again.
WRITERS TAKE HEART! Please continue
With courage, for your doubts will be stilled!
Though Blocks may roam about, one day soon you will shout
“It’s the Block , not myself, that I’ve killed!”