My muse and I - a poem

My muse and I
Speak languages
No one understands but us
We chat and laugh
And while away the day
We speak in hushed tones
About the difficulty
Life has brought to me
And the healing power
Of the spoken word.
And they begin to drop
Faster and faster
Pen flying and paper crushing
The words out one by one
A jumbled flurry
Of expression
The ugly process
Tearing at the white page
Filling with black ink
Flowing from my head
In demonstrative form
Falling and falling
Til the final breath of life
Has been bled from the quill.
I wonder at the writing before me
What my muse awoke
Exhausted from the journey
I lay the pen down
And my muse and I
Speak in soft tones
The language of poetry


This topic was automatically closed 95 days after the last reply. New replies are no longer allowed.