|Where did that muse go?|
Enjoy! And keep the faith.
Inspiration, where’s thy flow?
My Muse, elusive, just won’t show.
My mind floats off upon the breeze.
Clearly I’m no good at this,
My composition’s hit-or-miss.
As the minutes tick on by
My story line begins to die.
Why keep up this “writer” pose?
My verses simply decompose!
My baby’s crying, down the hall.
Right on cue, a brainstorm comes,
My babe wakes up, and my head hums!
Hurry, quick! I’ve no more time –
My words begin to rush, and rhyme!
“Coming, Sweetie Pie,” I shout;
My fingers fly, thoughts tumble out.
|No, Cheddar. That's BUTT in chair.|
Naptime’s done! I shake my head,
My little Muse is out of bed.
-- by Christy Mihaly
©2014 Christy Mihaly
all rights to poem reserved
Cute poem! Thanks, Christy!ReplyDelete
Thank you, Tina, it was fun to write.Delete
Love this, Christy. We can ALL relate to it.ReplyDelete
Thanks Kathy. It seemed appropriate for this month, especially with RhyPiBoMo going on.Delete
yup - and that's exactly how it goes!ReplyDelete
Don't we know it, Sue!Delete
Brilliant, Christy . . .agreed!ReplyDelete
Thanks, Jarm! Happy rhyming to you today!Delete
Thank you, Christy :) That muse is elusive and I keep chasing!ReplyDelete
My favorite line is: "My versus just decompose." Thank you, Chris and Cheddar, too.ReplyDelete
Thanks! Yes, Cheddar helped . . . .Delete
Luvved this then, Luv it NOW! I needed that, Christy! XXReplyDelete
Thanks, Jan . . . and good luck getting into your flow.ReplyDelete
I love, love, LOVE this poem!ReplyDelete