Hi, Relic! I’ve gotten so used to calling you that over the years, haha. I love how this poem captures the chaotic, procrastinating, wandering mind of the creative process. It’s like watching inspiration play hard-to-get while snacks, horror movies, and classical music are your sidekicks. The pacing — week by week, half-week by half-week — perfectly mirrors that slow, frustrating march toward an idea…until the rain shows up, like a cosmic mic drop! Haha. It’s a funny and oddly hopeful meditation on creativity’s mysterious timing.

Powerfully penned, Tim. The life of a writer has peeks and valleys. “I’ve lost my mojo. He ain’t risin.” A reference to the Lizard King?? Probably not, either way I dig the write my friend. Appreciate you.

Damian

So, Relic, huh? I thought I recognized those keystrokes. Good to see you here, another refugee from that lost cafeteria of broken crockery. Nice write, Tim. It’s like you were looking over my shoulder.

Mother Nature knows what she is doing before a storm.
The air gets still but you can feel it. The presence of something powerful brewing.
This whole piece gave that. I especially loved the stanza about the glass with delicate fingers!
And I love that pic amigo!

Wonderful. Thoroughly vivid with the descriptive lines sewing it all together. We can see it, feel it even. Excellent poem Tim.

Powerfully penned, Tim. Amazing imagery my friend. Appreciate you.

Damian