The Word for Writers
Writer's Ice Block
SEND A PRIVATE MESSAGE
HIRE THIS WRITER
(Inspired by II Kings 18:1-20:6)
My home, pressure cooker abounding with steam,
Tells me that I'm living "every girl's dream!"
"Wouldn't I love to eat bonbons all day,"
says Castle King. "Just like you. No work, all play."
The maid servants giggle, the guards light their pipes.
"That gal never sweats. Only sits there and types.
The life of old Riley." I'm riled all right.
Why does my passion make them so uptight?
"Look at you lounging upon that computer,
Accomplishing nothing and getting no cuter!
Stop what you're doing. It's making no money."
Oh, but it will, for this scroll drips with honey!
"Here, read a copy of my latest 'script,"
Trumpets this swan whose wings shall not be clipped.
"Sorry, time's valuable. I've got to go.
Remember recycling. The pile doth grow."
His cumbersome words make the molehill a mountain,
Obstruct vision's faucet, inhibit the fountain
From spilling into the dry valley below,
Where thirsty babes hunger to drink the milk flow.
It takes me five hours to empty the trash,
Sweep clean the dirt floors, make the horses a mash.
Meanwhile poor Novel sits bound in a drawer,
Guarded by dragons who'd have me ignore
My calling to slay them with utterance written,
Divine inspiration with which I've been smitten.
"Give up, for your publisher doesn't exist.
But we've got your family all in a twist.
To free them you must that mad brainchild bury,
Your wild obsession so childishly scary,
And slave in the wasteland called Plain Ordinary.
Stop playing the rebel, you 'Merry Contrary!'"
Suddenly I feel like Queen Hex-Denier
Assailed by wet blankets inside a clothes drier,
Which hampers the birth of this dream that could bless
The motherless children and ease their distress.
But Rabid Man, gnashing teeth, shakes a bold fist.
"My stiff writer's ice block you cannot resist!"
His threats would consign me to obscurity
Within a dark dungeon, no hope for a key.
I burn up the cell phone. "Ice Breaker, pick up!
This king Sinning Cherub demands I give up
And discard my tool, this wonderful gift,
Created by Jesus, his lost sheep to lift
From wells deep and narrow, from pits long and wide,
From oceans of sorrow, from dreams that have died.
Please cry out to God with me! Let's seek His face!
I'm sick of this bully who gives me no grace."
Instantly Ice Breaker with me agrees.
Humbly the two of us fall to our knees.
We ask God to end this sad hiring freeze,
To turn the temp up a bit - say, ten degrees,
To warm up the hearts of potential employers,
Make room for our writings, deflect our annoyers,
And make sure that each fruit gives glory to Him
Each time we two venture out on a limb.
I know we can trust Him. I know He'll bring peace.
Our cares cast upon Him will bring us release.
This root against Amalek shall not give up.
For where two or more gather, there He will sup.
Judges 5:14; II Chronicles chapter 32; Isaiah chapters 36-38; Isaiah 55:1-3 & 57:14; Zechariah 9:11; Matthew 12:11 and 18:19, Luke 4:4 & 14:5; Ephesians 6:12; James 4:7; Revelation 3:20 & 12:9
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