I guess I could write a poem.

A poem filled with similes, metaphors, symbols, and the like.

I could have a rhyme pattern, choose words that roll off the tongue, and a specified amount of syllables per stanza.

It might be about a world far away and long ago, man’s ongoing battle with the elements, or any number of things.

Yep, I’m all set to write my poem.

Anytime now.

Nothing to do but sit around and hope for inspiration.

Yep, nothing to do.

Nothing.

At all.

I’ll start writing as soon as I get an idea…or not.

Stupid writer’s block.