Dry Docked Muse


My muse left town

no note

no good luck

nothing but air

and blank paper,

actual paper.


I liked my muse

he had hairy legs

and everything.

When I was thirsty

I always pulled

into his drydock

and got a refill.


I miss my muse,

I miss his tendency

to pull me with wires

and rakes, hooks

and grapples out

of the doldrums

where I windlessly

tended to navigate.


When he comes back

he will prop himself proud

on my headboard next

to my guardian angel

where they will laugh long

at my slovenliness and my

dependency until I

get busy.








Author's Notes/Comments: 

Dear muse, come home soon. Poems are getting iffy again. 



The Museless

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nightlight1220's picture

Haha! This made me laugh.

Haha! This made me laugh. Very cute!


...and he asked her, "do you write poetry? Because I feel as if I am the ink that flows from your quill."

"No", she replied, "but I have experienced it. "


allets's picture

Tickle Tickle

Just foolin' around, amused, pensive and bemused. There should be a word "premused" and a word "promused" huh? Currently, my muse is on a most wanted list. Poeting is hard work but that WAS fun - ha! Funstuff. ~a~

Lady A