An Ode to Procrastination

I’m a budding writer, I write almost every day,
Unless I get distracted or my muse goes away,
I’m writing my first novel, it’s gonna be really good,
A number one best seller, optioned by Hollywood,
It’s got mystery and intrigue, characters you’ll adore,
It’s got stirring scenes with thrilling themes and imagery galore,
I can’t wait for you to read it, in hardback when it’s done,
The only problem is, I’m still on Chapter One.

My wife says that I’m lazy, but I don’t think that’s true,
It’s just when I sit down to write, I find something else to do,
The cutlery needs polishing, those flowers need a border,
Or maybe I should put all my books in alphabetical order,
I walk the cat and iron my socks, even watch daytime telly,
Just as I realise how crap it is, there’s a rumbling in my belly,
I hit the shops for a tasty snack, then pick the longest queue,
And all of this for a short delay on starting Chapter Two.

This really is getting silly, I can’t put it off all night,
The funny thing, believe it or not, is I really love to write,
Come on now! Get started! Get on my worthless arse,
Sit it down at that writing desk, put a stop to this farce,
A thousand words before I sleep, that isn’t much to ask,
I open up my old laptop and set about my task,
I reread my first chapter, and am hit with a hammer blow,
This pile of shite needs a whole rewrite,




5 thoughts on “An Ode to Procrastination

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