Nine ball
I’m blasting Mozart’s
Symphony 41
on the Philco stereo
at close to 3am
in the basement
of the old house
up at Mt. Pocono
causing whitecaps
to appear upon
the troubled waters
of Lake Writersblock
I’m hoping for a poem
or story of great meaning
one of substance and worth
…filled with poignant words…
to spring from the well-worn
felt of the old billiard table
upon which I shoot
a game of 9 ball
with the immortal, but imaginary
Di Mozartini himself
the legendary billiards connoisseur
it’s your shot, I say
to dear old Gottlieb
as the Jupiter Symphony
fills the dimly lit cellar
with inspiration
and in its honor
I pour another cup
of boysenberry wine
to chase the cold from
the darkest hour
of a winters night
as rhapsody reverberates
off of the oil burner tank
shakes windows in their casements
rattles the box wrenches
in their hangers
above the workbench
and descends upon
disassembled lawn mower parts
on the cellar floor
I steel myself for
the final round of play
…then…
…Wolfgang Amadeus…shoots…
his shot goes awry — I say:
“a bit off our game tonight – aren’t we, old pal?”
I chuckle and chalk my cue
I approach the table
and study my shot
take my time – I see the run
but the Great One knows
I have him on the ropes.
I draw the lightly talc’d
red maplewood shaft through
the crook of my left forefinger
to the point of release, and
it’s geometry from here on
a lightly pressed shot off
of the cushion
and we’re done – finito
I say goodnight to the dark shadows
that lurk behind the oil burner.
Ed's end of the planet books 
Now you are one dude with NO WRITERSBLOCK!!!!!…just sayin’
Cool as always.
Thank you for your comment, Nancy. Glad to have you here reading.
Where do you get all this stuff from? I’m envious of your brain!!! My creativity block drives me crazy!!!! Keep on writing! Aspiring painter in NJ
Pete’s the writer!!!!!
meaning it wasn’t Pete who wrote that first comment, can you tell I’m not used to this?!!!! The Painter?
I know exactly what you mean. But most of what I am posting here lately was written a long time ago. I have been rather busy with my paying job lately to devote much time to serious blogs — I hope not to torture my readers too much 🙂
No torture at all!!! Fun!
so if I were to make an interpretation of the poem’s last line I would say that it is the unwritten poem which lurks in the shadows behind the oil burner ; in the poem whicht was indeed written !
Excellent interpretation.
This is my favorite (that I can remember). Isn’t it true that all inspiration draws
on music, the senses and the rest is mathematics (skill). I have none of the later
but lots of curiosity. This is a game of visual delights.
Thank you! I am always glad to have you drop by to read. And I agree with you, it seems that most inspiration in some way draws from music. I usually play music while I am writing, and (as you might suspect), Mozart is one of my all time favorites.