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When I saw the topic Thursday,
I had a writer’s hunch;
but as I started penning,
my muse went out to lunch.
I lazed around on Friday
to let the juices flow.
By Saturday the fruit dried up.
I never got past “Go.”
The OT sermon Sunday
held not a single clue.
No mention of a growl at all
from camel, goat or ewe.
By Monday, I had nightmares.
Rottweillers prowled my dreams.
Werewolves chased me Tuesday
around moonlit woods and streams.
A cloudy Wednesday morning
only fortified the block.
All day I puttered, aimless,
to the ticking of the clock.
Depressed, I ate a gallon
of my tonic, Rocky Road.
By 2 a.m. on Thursday
I was groaning from the load.
I glared at my reflection
in the mirror on the wall.
I sobbed, “Some writer you are-
you’re not talented at all!”
Self-anger replaced tear drops.
Dormant cells began to stir.
A madness boiled up inside
and then I found my Grrrrrrrr!
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