If the blank page had teeth, it would bite me.

Fortunately, I met a terrific group of writers here in Tennessee, and one gentleman captured writers’ block so well in his poem, A Writer’s Nightmare!, I asked if I could share his opus with you.

R.L. McCullough graciously agreed and replied to my question if he wrote prose as well, with humor. “If it doesn’t rhyme, it’s not worth my time.”



A Writer’s Nightmare!

by R.L. McCullough


I’m blocked! I’m blocked!

Totally deadlocked.

I don’t know what to do.

I’ve racked my brain.

Oh, the pain.

I’m writing nothing but Pooh!


As the breeze

Wafts through the trees,

I hear what sounds like clackers.

But do not fear,

‘Tis ducks draw near,

It’s just a flock of Quackers!


Oh my gosh!

It’s verbal goulash.

I think I’ve lost all my senses.

If you viewed my mind,

At this desperate time,

You’d see nothing but privacy fences.


Take a deep breath,

It’s not life or death,

Inspiration is bound to return.

But if it’s subpar,

You won’t get far,

The critiques will make you burn.


As I wander wistfully through a forest of cotton candy dreams,

I come upon a bubbling brook, a multi-colored stream.

It wanders aimlessly through the land, bringing hope and peace.

Everything looks rosy now, even those stinking geese!


Oh my Lord,

I’m so bored.

My mind is in total shutdown.

This abomination,

Born of frustration,

Makes me look like a total clown.


I’ve pulled out my hair,

Faced my fear,

Yet the page is incriminatingly blank.

Over 500 phrases,

And endless pages,

With garbled verbiage that honestly stank.


Once upon a midnight dreary,

My bloodshot eyes were very bleary,

I was feeling none too cheery,

Why can’t I think of another rhyme?


I look at the floor,

Crumpled pages galore,

I ponder my future as a total rube.

You know what I think,

I need a drink,

I wonder what’s on YouTube.