Number 33, Doing Nothing

It's June the 4th I think, bank holiday Monday, Queen's Diamond Jubilee.  You'd think I could write something about that, but no.  Maybe I will some other time, but I have found that when I sit down to write the result rarely has anything to do with any preconceived topic or idea. Whatever appears on paper is usually a surprise.

This is number 33, and I estimate that I am on day 39.  I could be wrong, but it will all tally up in the end.

Nothing Doing.

I might have to go to bed,

Very little having said.

It’s well past late and I’ve been staring,

At blank paper; long past caring.

I sat down at half past three,

Full of good intentions me.

Before I got one sentence down,

Two friends arrived from up in town.

I gave them both a cup of tea,

And asked them if they’d come and see

My work, and offer me advice;

They both said it was ‘very nice’!

That’s no good, I told the pair

I need the truth to make it fair.

I need to hear if what I’ve done,

Is bad or good or second to none.

I gave them each a couple of drinks,

To get what each one of them thinks.

Unless it is a Trappist monk,

The truth comes out when someone’s drunk.

But try to ply them as I might,

This went on late into the night.

One of them began to say...

But what came out was ‘It’s OK’.

And so I persevered till morning

When I heard the sound of snoring.

Like screwed up paper in a heap

They both fetched up there fast asleep. 

Now it's too late to go to bed,

So maybe I will write instead.

But just for now I'll skip this one,
And hope the next is much more fun.

© Stephen Saunders

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