these well of thoughts
suddenly seem drying,
i curse, i grumble
but alas still nothing...
i used to complain,
how my muse seems to come,
disrespectful of time...
keeping me awake whilst
i long for deep sleep...
pushing me to grab a pen
when i can't keep my eyes open.
i used to chide her,
used to taunt her,
for the jumble of thoughts she inspired,
with thoughts she can't defend,
but sounds poetic in her head.
now i miss her intrusion,
in the silence of the night,
i long to hear her soft whispers
taking me to magical heights...
so bear with me tonight,
if i just can't get it right,
abandoned by my muse,
to rest is best...
without her to inspire me,
i'm a well about to bleed empty...
Author notes
it's been some days since i wrote my last poem here... i start writing and i dry up...hope this one doesn't put the readers to sleep...
A contest entry
- Food for the Famished Mind (NEED MORE ENTRIES!- ENTER!) by Shahrazad.
900 points, ended September 12, 2007, 19 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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such a novel approach ...
I enjoyed your thoughts and could identify with what you shared. A- musing that had to be written down and congratulations for the trophy! joy
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I really really liked this one... it flowed so well and I loved how you talked about your muse! Beautiful! I can definately relate because until very recently, my writing disappeared... then all the sudden it bursts out of me so frequently and earning me the enjoyment and respect of others who read them. I think your muse may have returned to you
BTW I loved the last line... perfect
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