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Artistic drought.
I parked outside the doctors
and slowly went inside
the only thing that hurt me
was deep inside, my pride.
The lady took my details
I had alot to tell,
the waiting room was busy
full of people sick, unwell.
I sat on Mr hard chair
it stabbed my soft behind
I glanced up at the ceiling
prayed the doctor to be kind.
At last and I was taken,
shown through a big oak door,
"sit down my friend and tell me
which part of you is sore."
"Oh Doctor you can help me
of that there is no doubt."
"What seems to be the trouble?"
"I have Artistic Drought."
"My God you silly bugger
you completly waste my time,
do you know how much I earn
by each hour that is chimned!"
"You sit in here and tell me
your poetry has dried up!"
"Well there"s the door you fool
and never mind the buts!"
"I specialize in medicine
yes that"s my only goal,
I don"t deal so much in poetry
or matters of the soul."
"You need to see a specialist
someone with more decorum,
I know the very people
just try a poetry forum."
"They help you once and allways
of that there is no doubt,
they hand out good advice
to help Artistic Drought."
and so I set off happy
relaxed and not a frown
artistic juices flowing.....
and you know
I think I"ll write this down.
