Saturday, December 24, 2011

Twas the Morn Before Christmas

Twas the morn before Christmas
by B.E. Sanderson

Twas the morn before Christmas, when all through the house
Everyone still lay sleeping.  Yes, even the mouse.
The stocking are hung on the bookshelf, with care
In hopes that some presents will soon join them there.

Like I said, they are nestled all snug in their bed
While visions of new words dance in my head
Hubs lays in his blankets.  The kid's in her room.
Kira sleeps on the luggage.  Max waits in his tomb.

Up here at the keyboard, I make such a clatter
I'm shocked no one awakens to ask 'what's the matter?'
Away on my WIP, my fingers fly with a flash
I'm tearing through pages like a bookworm on hash.

Outside doesn't beckon--cuz of all that damn snow.
And well, the house is all cozy from the furnace below.
I'm writing and what to my wandering muse does appear?
A genie with memory loss and a dog with a beer.

Now I really am driven - writing's lively and quick
And I hope my self-doubt won't attack with a stick.
More rapid than gophers that old bitch undermines
She whistles and catcalls and bitches and whines

"You're stupid!  You're lame!  You're a pathetic sight!
You're boring!  You're useless!  And I hate what you write!"
"You should tear up those pages.  Throw your keyboard away!
You should find a new job 'stead of typing all day!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly
My muse blows away and I just want to die.
So into the kitchen I limp with one shoe
To look for some candy and some alcohol, too.

And then in a twinkle I knew just what to say
"I'm not listenin' to you, witch, now just go away!"
Then I sucked in my stomach, turned my back on the treats
Waddled my butt to the chair, disregarded the sweets.

I spoke not a word, but went straight to my work
Left Selt Doubt in the dust, since she's only a jerk.
Laying my fingers on A, S and L, K
I began writing and plan to all day

There's a spring in my step, and my heart wants to whistle
Doubt's a thorn for my butt, and for my fingers a thistle.
So you'll hear me exclaim as I type til the night
Merry Christmas to all and to all a good WRITE.

Okay, that isn't the best poem ever, but I had fun writing it this morning.  I hope you all enjoyed it and that you manage to find some time to write over the holidays.  And even if you don't, that's it fun and family keeping your fingers off the keys and not that little snit Self Doubt.

Merry Christmas and Happy Writing