Each time I read this tale my friend
I can’t help wondering what happened when,
once inspired to write these images,
having been interrupted,
your memory went into a blank!
Oh Bastet, what can I say
it was such a glorious day…
Though ill I had this awesome image
and it was more than 300 lines!
Yet that idiot from Porlock came
to sell some encyclopedias just then …
My muse shouted; “Go away!”
but I felt it would be just too rude …
I indulged him for just half an hour …
before sending him on his way.
I returned then to my pen and ink
I re-read what I had just written. …
Alas, my muse offended,
refused to answer then my call,
no words nor phrases came again that day
nor did I find those words again,
to tell the tale of Xanadu …
Of the ice caves not a line nor rhyme,
my poem was gone
never to return to me.
From that time to now I’ll tell you this,
no longer do I interrupt my writing bliss
I ignore anyone who knocks
upon my door …
and I hate Porlock town!