The Writer’s Pity-Party.

The poor writer's "big" feast.

The poor writer’s “big” feast.

Let’s roll out the table
Burst open the kitchen
And serve the tea
This writer has had enough

Days of struggling for inspiration
But there was no rain.
And despite his hard work,
The ground still remained barren –
A perpetual desert-ed piece of white paper
Lying on the writer’s table,
Devoid of any ink.
Days of trying to express
What little drops of inspiration
Splashed his way.

Whilst showers flooded
Neighbouring villages,
Those farmers could hardly gather
All the harvest bounties.
See the many followers
Sitting at their festivals.
Even days these rich farmers give no food,
They all still get wine and drunk
And discuss the ingenuity of insanity.
After all, a king’s ragged chair
Is still seen as a throne to others!

I could just throw a writer’s tantrum
And decide to ignore all,
Settle for another more profitable occupation.
Or plant crops which cost little effort
But ain’t worth much either.
Ha! Yes. Something like a vegetable
Seasoned with some spices
Which really lack true nutritive value!

Or I could just be a subsistent farmer
Who grows crops barely enough
To satisfy friends who come visiting,
And they end up in almost-meaningless talks
So neither the farmer nor visitors
Feels bad for a visit
That could not quite give them what they needed,
Till the visitors start making excuses
For not showing up again.
Who dares blame them?!

Or maybe I should just be a seller –
A reviewer/critic who assesses
And re-presents others products.
That way I can get to distribute some food
To my visitors,
And I un-enviously advertise others’ products
Whilst not being guilty of theft or plagiarism.
Well, give some credit to thieves even.
Cloning others’ crops ain’t exactly easy too!

Oh! Of course, I still visit them rich folks.
We can’t be enemies or even literarivals
But today, I just want to sulk
And serve bland tea
To anyone who happens to visit,
Hoping they don’t think me desperate
And they are in the mood to talk,
Not just tick a “like” as a review.
After all, it still takes a real farmer
To grow even bland tea!!!

Hope the visitor/reader is savvy enough to know if this piece is really about farming, or writing. Please check the title again. Just in case.
*Literarivals -rivals in the world of writing/writers.

35 responses to “The Writer’s Pity-Party.

  1. your funk seems to have inspired you – but it’s no competition – if it were, we’d all have stop writing and just post pornography

  2. Shards Of DuBois

    I love that you tagged it ‘insane rantings’…;) and also love the new word, I knew what you meant immediately…but none of us are rivals, are we? I hope not. I like to think we’re here to inspire each other, and as far as you not having anything to write about…that was like 7 paragraphs!! hehe so you are not allowed a pity party!~! get ur lazy butt back to the keyboard! lol

    • Hahahaha! Sincerely, in the midst of my meanings, I dare to be thankful for the little bunch of witty friends I have. I am not quite surprised you understood the neologism -literarivals immediately.

      My hope is probably more desperate than yours. True that humans are a complicated bunch, but I hope for as much simplicity and some sense of togetherness in the blogosphere.

      Been off the internet actively for a while, hence my absence at your own village. Be expecting me soon.

      • Shards Of DuBois

        oh doc, u silly kid, my hope isn’t in humans..! we’re too selfish and inhumane, I can’t rely on that. lol I do love the blogorama…I see lots of wonderful people, talented and creative in ways I never imagined…and the village will throw a feast when you arrive…albeit we will pass around a peace pipe instead of wine and milk…hehehe

  3. Doc, even in the depths of your pity and your lukewarm tea, you always make for worthwhile reading. Always.

    • Hey Trent, hello. See how nice my friends are. Even the Trent who favours stalking Bayne’s ethanol bottle now claims to like my lukewarm tea.
      Hehehehehe. Nice having you around for my party.
      I’ll do you well also by giving you a hint: you inspired the kingly character in the piece. And as you know, your insanity reeks of ingenuity and you pull off stunts paupers like me can’t hope to pull off with your works. Even when you write in the early morning, in between cups of coffee and screaming children and moving to a new place, (the King’s ragged chair), which some can only hope to pull off after a long quiet night of listening to music and consulting various muses. lol. Sincerely, I may have sounded pathetic, but it wasn’t that of envy, for I admire you. And, as you may well know, I respect your writings. Plainly.

      See me desperately trying to explain myself to you. I am really having IT. Wonder when this party will be over and I can go gay with alcohol and milk, back to my usual carefree self. Hehehehehe.

      • Doc, this admiration is mutual, I hope you know that. You have a soul, and you are able to translate that into your writing, and that is such a rare thing. I don’t know if my writing has soul – it has a touch of madness, certainly, but that is easily replicable. Heartfelt words and expression is something not easily done, so I give you all the credit for that. And you know, you are one of the most amazing people I have met out in this blog world – I don’t know anyone like you, who speaks the way you do, who thinks the way you do.

  4. And now I can see showers on the ground…. but these are not showers of rain, but of tears….. I think I am touched!!!!!!
    See blood on the floor… the Trent is making me blush so red I am bleeding.
    Indeed you have spoken no flattery because we are all different indeed, but I still feel a tinge of red.

    I’ll pay back: I’d have you know that it’s not every mad man’s rant that makes sense to we the supposedly sane ones. Your insanity is the attractive type, and it’s not everyday I write mad spills that gets my visitors excited like yours. Soooooo………. there!!!!!!!!!!!

  5. Okay… that was awesome… the whole barren ground thing… and I love what you have done with the cave…

  6. “Days of struggling for inspiration
    But there was no rain.”

    Great words as usual. I can’t rival your poetry, but I could manage the bland tea. At least it took some effort to make it. 🙂

    keep writing, Doc!

  7. Haha! 🙂 Those words made my head swell!

    Thanks, Doc.

Even the most absurd thoughts can't ruffle this Enchanted Writer. Spill, please...

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