Twas the Night Before…

Twas the night before blog post, when all through my brain,

Not an idea was stirring, I was going insane;

The laptop was open, I sat in my chair,

In hopes that prose would soon fill the air;

Other bloggers nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of Likes danced in their heads:

My face in my hands, my foot began to tap,

Should I settle for a blank page and a long winter’s nap?

When out of my mind the thought couldn’t be sadder,

Why bother with this blog thing, it really doesn’t matter.

Away to my history I dug into the past,

Clicked open a window and I was aghast.

The bar graph was a picture of both success and woe

Countries, referrers, clicks and posts all listed below.

When, what to my wondering eyes did appear,

The views and visitors from my first month and year.

I was so much younger, the words came more quick,

So many topics to cover made it tough to pick.

More rapid than eagles the ideas they came,

Some humorous, some instructive, not one was the same:

On revival, on relationships, on leadership and church life,

About Ministry, about prayer and about Blueprint (my book) all proofed by my wife!

To the top of my views, to the top of my Likes

More comments, more visits, more friends and their blog sites.

As dry leaves before the wild hurricane would fly,

The mounting number of readers brought a tear to my eye.

So back to my writing my confidence now grew,

I think I have one more blog in me; maybe two!

And then, in a twinkling I heard in my mind,

The echoes of ideas that were intertwined.

As I drew in my head, and was turning words around,

Down to the keyboard this idea came with a bound.

The poem was dressed in tradition from head to boot,

The idea may be borrowed but it beat being mute.

A bundle of words I flung on the screen,

They mirrored a poem I once had seen.

My eyes now twinkled, my dimples were merry,

My post was working, no longer felt scary.

My droll mouth was dried up in a drought,

And the beard on my chin I scratched as I figured it out

The stump of no words I held tight my teeth,

And fear once again encircled me in unbelief.

The deadline I face, made it hurt in my belly,

I shook when I typed, my spine was like jelly.

I was gloomy and stumped, I looked on my shelf

I laughed when I saw a book written by myself.

A blink of my eye and smack on my head,

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;

I now had a word and went straight to my work

I filled the screen; I’d been such a jerk,

And laying finger to keys I set aside my old foes

And overcame my insecurity by writing these prose;

While I sprang into action I started to whistle,

At the thought of writer’s block I only could bristle

I was heard to exclaim I was tired as a dog,

“Merry Christmas to all and to all a finished blog”

Thanks for the inspiration Clement Clarke Moore or Henry Livingston, Jr

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