Does anyone share this passion to write:
The passion that keeps you up all night?
A subject pops into your tired head,
Just before it is time for bed.
You say to yourself, "Just let it go",
But in your mind you already know:
That once in bed with the lights turned out,
That subject will continue to dance and shout.
So it's outta bed and straight to the computer,
Typing and changing and trying to be cuter.
Its seven o'clock, eight, then nine and ten…
When will the words come to an end?
Writers' block never shows up when you need it,
And the poem keeps growing as long as you feed it.
As your eyes get heavy and the beat rythmic,
You begin to love the poem and become ecstatic.
You couldn't sleep earlier, for the words wouldn't stop;
Now you can't believe its eleven o'clock!!
What will this all bring before morning arrives?
Well, lo and behold! It's a poem. SURPRISE!!
