Anybody know how I feel?

Writer’s Dilemma
by Linda O’Connell

Retirement’s on the horizon, and I need to pitch my book.
But that means I have to promote it and come up with a unique hook.
Some days I want to be a writer and do nothing but compose.
Then, I sit down at the keyboard and what do you suppose?

My thoughts fly out the window, my muse runs out the door.
I sit and mope and flip through blogs to even out the score.
I tell folks that I’m a writer; it sounds really cool, but
the most I’ve written this week is reports, and that’s for school.

I recently published a biography, but it’s really not MY story,
I surprised myself the other day and wrote a tome that’s rather gory.
Fiction is not my forte, and killing grandma’s not too slick.
I asked a friend to look it over and she responded, “Woman, you are sick!”

I heard Ted Kooser, Poet Laureate. His words inspired me to write.
I planted my butt in a chair, and I sat there half the night.
I had a great idea, and then it left my head.
I told myself, you want to be a writer, but you’re a wanna be instead.

I laid in bed and pondered, I thought about my day.
I ought to stick to teaching, at least it’s steady pay.
No worry about point of view or metered rhyming verse.
At school it’s just the little kids, but sometimes that is worse.

This week it’s all about scary things: skeletons and witches.
One kid left me speechless and gave me involuntary twitches.
I said, “You and I have a skeleton, and we are not alone;
animals have skeletons too.” Little Johnny said, “My penis has a bone!”

I’m a writer who is wordless,
a teacher who is speechless.
I just want to cruise the globe
and lie on sunny beaches.

Anyone else searching for their voice? Muse? Purpose? Warmer weather?

This weekend I will post Halloween pictures of my adult costumes that have been prize winners. Now-now!