Cabin Fever

crown click Flickr pic for source




If I were in a room

with a bare floor

and no furniture

no pictures on the walls

no bloody phone

or television…or computer,

no books

or old photos, letters

and memories–

no windows–

only my imagination

and a pen (or two)

an empty notebook…

fresh thoughts

and ideas

(might be ideal conditions

for a fruitful harvest).



I’m getting calls

asking if I’ve heard

of some new grocer

who delivers (he can’t

get off the phone fast enough when I tell him I don’t eat meat!)

Someone else wants to send me on a fantastic vacation

because I’m a “winner”.

A UK lottery is e-mailing me

to say I’ve lucked out to the tune of

a MILLION POUNDS or Euros (or something).

Oh, and my bank account’s messed up,

apparently, although I don’t actually have an account

with that bank.


The cats are tripping me up;

making their plays;

mewling their pathetic whiny, grating, trilling


as if I hadn’t fed them the best food on the market

two hours since;

as if I just ignored them

and never stroked them

or spoke to them like children.

As if!


How sad am I?

And always this knot,

in my stomach—eating away,

just gnawing; knowing I can’t get away–

can’t go far, find any peace

to just release the pen;

let it take over–

scribble any old thing

in an effort to produce a gem,

a jewel in the crown of my


just let the pen

have its way with me.


I need some space.


Kathleen Mortensen©2009 
Page copy protected against web site content infringement by Copyscape


26 thoughts on “Cabin Fever

  1. Oh Kat, you can't know how appropriate this was for me today, but I have no doubt a lot of comments will be saying the same thing!Thanks for sharing your frustrations so eloquently.


  2. I loved it, esp. the part about “the cats tripping me up; making their plays; mewling their pathetic whiny, grating, trilling noises, as if I hadn't fed them the best food on the market two hours since; as if I just ignored them and never stroked them or spoke to them like children. As if!” I only have Mr. Jones and that describes him perfectly. The neighbor lady and her daughter come by to visit quite often, and want to hold him and play with him, but he hates them and won't allow them to play with him, but, a few minutes later he is in my face wanting me to play with him, while they have to set and watch him. It's as if he's telling them, “she is the only one I play with, go home!” LOL Mr. Jones as a mind of his own.I think we all can relate to the poem today. I love my space and my quiet time.Have a great week!


  3. I think a lot of writers can relate to this one, Kat. I've added all of our phone numbers to the national “do not call” directory and we don't get all those sales calls anymore. Do they have such a thing up there?


  4. Titus – I'm glad to know that.Carolyn – You're in!Ann – I love that name, Mr. Jones (there's a song by Counting Crows, you know). Multiply your aggravation by 4 and see if you don't lose your mind, occasionally. ha haJohn, we could probably buy our own island somewhere and finally work in peace, IF we truly had accumulated such wealth.Willow – I did the same thing, and for a while it was going well, but lately they're coming out of the woodwork!


  5. So hard, Kat, to find peace and space.Have you tried staying up all night? The world is a very different place at 3am ,you will feel alone on the planet, which is either great or scary depending on what kind of life you have!


  6. Kat, I should do this more! Can never fing the time to jot down my thoughts. No worries about the UK lotto( spammer gets 'em-HA! )and I just le the phone answerer pick up. Most times it's a bloody telemarketer, anyway…ho hum. Enjoy your week 🙂


  7. Me, too! Actually, when school starts up next week I plan on experiencing some solitude! :)Kat, I thought of you a few days ago. For the first time we bought our oldest some dress shirts for college. You know, the kind of shirt with the collar and sleeve measurements instead of a mere S, M, or L. As I took them out their packages and started a little pile of straight pins, your beautiful poem came back to my mind! 🙂


  8. I can quite understand the content of this wonderful poem.I am currently, and most unusually, all by myselfand still failing to write……maybe because it is so beastly hot and sultry…all best wishes


  9. Great description. I absolutely HATE the telephone anymore. Most of the meaningful people in my life first contact me via email or Facebook's In-box, bloggyland, etc. When my land line rings, I am automatically suspiscious. I only give my cellular number to family members. Isn't it amazing how many stupid little things can distract us from our art?


  10. Do people realize we need some quiet to think? I truly can relate to this also. I am pulled so many ways when I am at work. But then I must pay the bills and I'm so tired by the time I get home I'm lucky I can look at blogs and stay sane. You are a great writer. I find frustration pulls the muse around and around and then I can come up with something. Kat, I always love your work. trish


  11. Wow Kat, I definitely feel that. I dream of a far far away place, in the solitude of nature just to write words that nurture my soul, but stuck I am often in the rut of everyday life. I feel you on this one for sure!


  12. Great work Kat. I feel your frustration with everything around you. I feel a bit like that when I have a new picture inside me just bursting to get out and I have to go and do this and that before I can get on with it. I would like to draw without interruption but it just doesn't happen.Love the copse poem too.


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