There’s an engine I work on whenever it needs
A Tuning. I like when it purrs like a kitten.
Content to run idle or placed in high gear
Someone might just speak of my writing this year.
Were that to come true, I’d be totally smitten.
Perhaps it’s by fate that the writer succeeds.
Nonetheless, I have nothing to fear of my block.
I am one who will own it despite its great mass.
As an anchor, it keeps the mind running in place
Yet it holds the soul tight in a captive embrace.
Other blocks on the highway… I’ll yield; you may pass.
If my octane’s not high, my poor pistons will knock.
Writer’s block is a myth. I will tell you it’s so.
It was figmented long before mind had a man
And long before apes said farewell to the trees.
If I’m stuck on some verse, it reminds me to seize
Every moment’s transmission the best way I can.
This verse is finished, now… no more to go.