I strongly believe there is no such thing as 'writer's block'. (I do believe in procrastination though.)
But if there is, then the only cure I know of is writing bad poetry. Preferably so bad your brain tries to crawl out through your ears from pure terror.
Let's have another go at it...
Here's a new ditty, and after that my umpteenth attempt to translate a (horrible and disgusting) Dutch one...
Any Other Sunday
't Was a Sunday like any other
stuck the page in the type writing machine
didn't know why i'd even bother
still wrote t'best opening you'll ever seen
Then mother called for tea and more
after which I returned with trepidation
the world seemed worse than the words before
so I set aflame my latest creation
The house on fire, my typewriter gone
finding me dressed in nothing but white
the docs keep tellin' me they'll leave me alone
once I do get me head on right
No matter how many homes I've yet to burn
and round, padded rooms that welcome me
the title of wordsmith is what I'll earn
I'll be the best writer you'll never see
Groen (Dutch version)
I wrote this -- together with my young kids -- in an airplane on our way to Japan, to keep them busy. I was keeping them busy by making up a story about a young boy who needed to create a poem as a rite of passage... and this is what it became 🤔 We laughed all the way to Japan and back 😂
Groen is de kleur
van het snot uit je neus
kijk maar op je vinger, heus
Maar beter dat nog, dan bruin uit je kont
want groen kan naar binnen
maar poep... stop je niet in je mond
Green (English version)
I admit the Dutch version is better, but this is the closest version yet. Translating a poem (even a bad one) is hard!
Green is the color
of the snot as it lingers
on the tips of your fingers
It's better than brown from your ass
as green might be tasty
but poop should never pass
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