I don’t believe in writer’s block
What taunts me there, on the stark white page
Is the sun itself, or a distant ray
And nothing my pen can't unlock.
Daniel Boone swore he’d never been lost, per se
But had been a mite confused
His well-laid paths disabused
(Sometimes for several days).
Can mental blocks render writers obtuse?
And you say it's such a big thing
Then explain to me, please, one Stephen King
And tell me it's not an excuse.
© Bryan Denson, December 5, 2016