Poet's Lament


Months have gone by

Nary a single word

My muse seems to have bailed

The dirty bird.

I am so lost

Without its nag

No inspiration, no clues

What a drag.

My poet friends

So prolifically write

I sit here

Try and try as I might.

Nothing but nothing

Do I find

My muse has deserted me

Nothing comes to mind.

So, I will hang up my pen

for another day,

Fire my muse

Find another along the way.

Enough forcing,

I am off to bed.

Good night lord, good night starlight

Enough said.

© 2008 huck hickson (All rights reserved)

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Hate it when that happens. Just goofin' while a PC did its thing.

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Poetic_Eyes's picture

Love it.

Love it Hickson. No one writes just like you. You're a very talented author and an amazing friend.