What will it be today, Scribbler?

Perhaps a sonnet or psalm

Something radiating beauty and calm


Do you think you stand a chance against the rest?

You just might be able to pass the test

I can hear your gears turning as you toil


Can you give us a line or two?

Show us what to expect from someone like you

I’ve given you the floor, I have given the queue


I’d rather hold off, if it’s all the same to you

It’s a work in progress

Why must you seek to oppress?


Scribbler, we wait with bated breath

Produce it now or face your death

Surely, motivation enough — No?


To rush creativity is a grievous sin

You cannot will life into my pen

Your threats are lost on me, I fear them not

There is a secret in every scribbler’s soul

Their burden of purpose weighs heavy, it takes a toll

Nevertheless, write they must

Scribblers write for all of us!


  1. Made me thing of Bartleby, but then I remembered he was a scrivener, not a scribbler, and he preferred not to do either. He did not produce, faced death and died. No amount scriving or scribbling or lack thereof could save him. “Ah Bartleby! Ah humanity!”

    Liked by 1 person

      1. I think that is a bit exagerated. But I’m so honored you think so. From the Antichrist to the coolest person on earth is like totally epic.

        Liked by 1 person

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