Writer's Block

The sooty oystercatchers pipe o'er the waves at Inverloch
But I can't write about it for I have writer's block
And I can't write about it for I can't feel inspired
Today my soul feels weary and I feel a little tired.

A Summer sun is shining in a bright and sunny sky
But today my soul feels empty of inspiration dry
The words I juggle in my brain simply don't want to rhyme
I've lost the inspiration that I had in my prime.

The silver gulls around me cry for the food I eat
I notice some are crippled and some are missing feet
They may be Nature's children and they may live wild and free
But in the wilds of Nature there too is suffering and poverty.

'Birds' cooked chips are not good for you or so 'twould seem to me
Go seek your natural morsels from the shores of the sea
You gobble down human left overs and your numbers multiply
But due to disease your life span shorter and at a young age you die.

I've seldom seen the ocean as calm as this before
And the timid waves at Inverloch lap gently on the shore
And the shag hangs out her wings to dry on a volcanic rock
And I can't write about her for I suffer writer's block.