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A collaboration over too much coffee.
coffee and pen

04 December, 2004

Irony

(Response to someone afflicted with writer's block: the 'servants' are words).

Strange are the ways of fate. You complain
of servants turning hostile, intractable, mutinous;
of work undone, light unluminous.
You wonder whether you’ll be mistress again.

But I, alas, ail differently. Instead
of revolting, my wards divert and play
with me, and they would have their way
all the time: only, it’s me who’s dead.
***

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4 Comments:

Blogger Pragya said...

Not dead but in a trance,
Your wards doing their little dance,

Leaving tracks in the fallen snow,
Creating something called thinker's flow

-Inspired by an NY Times book reviewer who called an author's 20 year writer's block - thinker's flow!

04 December, 2004 19:00  
Blogger Pragya said...

This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

04 December, 2004 19:01  
Blogger SPECKLED_BAND said...

Pragya, it was someone else's block I was writing about :) But your little verse was lovely!

04 December, 2004 22:06  
Blogger raindanseuse said...

I can identify with you on this totally. Sometimes I get tongue-tied literally while trying to write.

13 December, 2004 00:46  

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