I hear too many excuses for not writing.

I don’t even pretend to be a poet, but allow me to share this thought:

No Excuses

I’ve got the kids, the dog and the cat The TV and radio, noises like that But I tune it all out when I sit in my chair In order to write like there’s nobody’s there.   Daytimes are madness: storms on the sea Ships in foul weather, crew mutiny. Trains in collision, pileups with cars Black holes of reason, exploding stars   Children, animals, customer kings Workers, bosses, multi-task things Paper and phones, gossip and news Headaches, backaches and shoes, shoes, shoes, shoes.   Leaving at sunrise.  Home after dark To blazing crescendo as soon as I park It’s homework and talk, make sure everyone’s fed Walk the dog, pet the cat, and put all to bed   Then at last there’s a moment when quiet descends Like snow on Christmas Eve.   And I thank God because of that one special chair Where I sit and I write like there’s nobody’s there.  

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