Confessions of a wannabe writer

The magic of storytelling I well understand

I’m waiting for God’s mysterious hand

To work wonders on my imagination in such a way

That I can pen a groundbreaking story one day

Everyone has a story, so I am told

Random ideas in my head I hope would unfold

And reorganize in to a story compelling and coherent

That spellbinds readers, a whole new perspective presents..

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The characters I conjure in my mind

Are as fickle as my thoughts, I find

Never staying with me long enough

To be able to create even a draft rough..

Ideas come to me in a drowsy state

To disappear next morning, leaving a blank slate..

What should I write about, is another conundrum

I am knowledgeable only in fields some

An unremarkable life I lead

Nothing to write about indeed..

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They say when an idea comes to you

Jot it down somewhere, any medium would do

But ideas come to me at times most inconvenient

I can rarely write them down, that’s my predicament..

Thus I have a laundry list of excuses as you see

To explain why I have not penned my masterpiece for posterity..