It’s almost 2 A.M.
And I’m wide awake
Though sound asleep
I labor to fake
Chugging along
Like a miles long freight train
Poetic words stalk me
Flooding my sponge of a brain
My relentless Muse
Working overtime
Always in search of
That perfect rhyme
“Get up, get up”
She politely insists
“We’ve much work to do”
As partnership we co-exist
So, I start typing
From my heart of which I hear
“Come on AP, pick up the pace”
I’m trying, I’m trying said I sincere
From the left, from the right
I pull from thin air
From above and below
Poetic words everywhere
Where does all this come from?
Dare I ask
“Never mind, just type faster”
My instructed task
So, there I type
As fast as I can
My Muse’s very own
Delivery man
That’s two poems in the last hour
How many more?
“Stop complaining,
And lock the door”
She reminds me
It’s all of my own
Every last word
From my heart, lyrically grown
It comes not
From my DNA
But still there it is
A part of me on the page
Can we take a break? I ask
“If you can handle the back-up”
Well, since you can’t stop I guess
I’ll try to keep up
Copyright © Accidental Poet 2021
-
Author:
Sharon\'s Poet (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: July 6th, 2021 05:16
- Category: Spiritual
- Views: 45
Offline)
Comments4
Good write AP. lol.
Thanks Orchi. ; )
When the muse nags, she is boss. She who must be obeyed less you toss and turn in refusal.
Oh she is definitely THE BOSS!
She visits, at her pleasure
Not waiting at my leisure
When then I wish to recall
Empty mind, nothing to haul
I find myself at that junction so, so many times. Loved the poem
Yes suresh I', a slave to my Muse. Thanks for the visit and comment. ; )
Very true words AP, that muse will not let us take a break at anytime.
Andy
I am but a slave to Muse cracking the whip. Thanks Andy. ; )
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