Writers' Block

I had a bout of  Writers' Block

it proved to be an awful shock, 

then words they taunted me at night, 

and challenged me to a verbal fight.

'Write us into a poem', they said.

I thought my poetry muse was dead, 

but soon the words were forming verses, 

the sight of these replaced my  curses.

The words came at me , swarming well, 

with rhythmic metre, and villanelle,

I was overjoyed at the poems I wrote,

like a drunken sailor steering a boat.

 I typed out another ten or eleven

by then I had reached my poetic heaven

'You're still a poet' the words cried out, 

my inner poet for joy did shout.

I had my poetic licence renewed, 

as writers' block into history flew, 

So I'll celebrate and drink a beer

for writing poems are back round here.