It was the one thing I could do half-right,
Though as of late had failed me;
I could not noun nor adverb write,
A vacant mind assailed me.
So, taking the advice of a host of friends,
“What you need is a break”, said they;
I took myself to where the road ends,
And to the bait store by the bay.
Being not much of a fisherman,
I browsed the lures and hooks;
I was thinking myself a “wisher-man”,
When I came across some books!
The first was a great anthology
Of grand poets, both new and old;
The second dealt with ecology,
Of global warming and bitter cold.
Shorthand was the last book’s theme,
An amanuensis’ delight;
I was startled from my daydream,
By a sound that gave me fright.
A voice said, “Someone left them here,
About a week ago; no two. ”
I saw the owner standing there,
Brushing squid from off his shoe.
“Name’s Joe, but you can call me POP,
And there’s flounder off that jetty;”
“Just take a look around the shop,
And let me know when you are ready.”
So I chose some hooks from off the shelf,
Thought, squid might just do the job;
“I’d get some sinkers were it me, myself,”
“Those fish”, said Pop, “just love to rob.”
So there I sat under a sun so hot,
With both book and pole in hand,
Reading Kipling, Tennyson, Sir Walter Scott,
My, but what a merry band!
I thought it wise to pass on Poe,
He’d scare all the fish for sure;
I thought they’d like Ms. Dickenson though,
A stately lady, refined, demure.
And so it was I wiled that day,
Catching only an eel, though small;
I threw him back, and as he swam away,
I yelled, “I'll see you in the Fall!”
I stopped at Pop’s before I left,
Returned his rod and reel;
He said he wouldn’t consider it theft
If I kept the book; I said, “Done Deal!”
My writer’s block still comes and goes,
As it does to those who scribble;
My advice is, "Get down to Papa Joe’s,
And just set 'till you get a nibble!"
Though as of late had failed me;
I could not noun nor adverb write,
A vacant mind assailed me.
So, taking the advice of a host of friends,
“What you need is a break”, said they;
I took myself to where the road ends,
And to the bait store by the bay.
Being not much of a fisherman,
I browsed the lures and hooks;
I was thinking myself a “wisher-man”,
When I came across some books!
The first was a great anthology
Of grand poets, both new and old;
The second dealt with ecology,
Of global warming and bitter cold.
Shorthand was the last book’s theme,
An amanuensis’ delight;
I was startled from my daydream,
By a sound that gave me fright.
A voice said, “Someone left them here,
About a week ago; no two. ”
I saw the owner standing there,
Brushing squid from off his shoe.
“Name’s Joe, but you can call me POP,
And there’s flounder off that jetty;”
“Just take a look around the shop,
And let me know when you are ready.”
So I chose some hooks from off the shelf,
Thought, squid might just do the job;
“I’d get some sinkers were it me, myself,”
“Those fish”, said Pop, “just love to rob.”
So there I sat under a sun so hot,
With both book and pole in hand,
Reading Kipling, Tennyson, Sir Walter Scott,
My, but what a merry band!
I thought it wise to pass on Poe,
He’d scare all the fish for sure;
I thought they’d like Ms. Dickenson though,
A stately lady, refined, demure.
And so it was I wiled that day,
Catching only an eel, though small;
I threw him back, and as he swam away,
I yelled, “I'll see you in the Fall!”
I stopped at Pop’s before I left,
Returned his rod and reel;
He said he wouldn’t consider it theft
If I kept the book; I said, “Done Deal!”
My writer’s block still comes and goes,
As it does to those who scribble;
My advice is, "Get down to Papa Joe’s,
And just set 'till you get a nibble!"
~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~
And that is how I resolved my writer's block!
Now I have to get some "sun block!
John
Adding your comment:
pick up a pole, not a joint! 
