In A Shepherd Hut: An acrostic sonnet
I bought a shepherd hut, where I could write—
Not being buttonholed, nor reached by phone—
And parked it in my garden, out of sight,
So all the world would leave me well alone.
Here I would craft a novel or a play,
Entirely undisturbed by daily chores,
Protected from distractions night and day …
However, once I hid behind its doors,
Excruciating writer’s block attacked
Relentlessly, until I came to see
Distractions served the food for thought I lacked—
Hermitic exile fed no muse for me! …
Up to my study’s bustle I returned
To write—and sell the hut, my lesson learned!
Editor’s Note: Every writer knows that distraction is the enemy of the mind, but sometimes the very thing that we think is going to solve that problem becomes the problem, as this hilarious sonnet demonstrates.
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