Doug Vinson Poet Free verse

Cornered By An Evil Muse

Writing in a room with an insolent ceiling,
Haughty in its skill at keeping thoughts out of reach,
Emotions darted above me, bat-like in their evasion,
A rapture of denial, pushing me away.

Ever I spun toward memory - always a quarter-turn ahead;
The seasons hid their faces, the Heavens turned their back,
Inspiration's cache stood just offshore, vanishing in fog;
What room was this - I was lost, off-center.

Every poem unwrote itself, the merest beginning hope
having fallen to dust; my mind and body were false constructions.
At the last, light and darkness gave up definition,
The walls and floor coming to the point without me.



March 25, 2017

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Rev. Gerald Dillenbeck December 3, 2025 at 3:57 AM I love this piece, and anything else you've written that I've been wise enough to read. Miss you. Would love to hear back about what you're up to these days.

FJ Thomas June 3, 2018 at 10:50 AM In a bit of a rut... so back to someone who obviously understands :) This is truly me right now. Hello again Doug :)

FJ Thomas April 8, 2018 at 1:31 PM Wow Doug ...you've woven this so wonderfully!

Stanley Dorsey December 14, 2017 at 5:04 PM Hey poem had great descriptions, some I must get defined. A writers block is disturbing

Deborah Burch November 19, 2017 at 11:44 AM Doug after reading this I know it's true... I have fallen down the rabbit hole!! ;) You used that rascal muse well dear one!! Good to read you!! Big Hugggs!! Deb

Phatt Matt September 1, 2017 at 7:28 PM Hi Doug, you did it again! you deserve A7 because you've hit that lousy muse right on the noggin-ha ha ha good on you mate. ~phatt Doug Vinson September 3, 2017 at 8:56 AM Thank you, Phatt. : ) Where do the words go when they won't come to us...?

Old Buck June 12, 2017 at 3:02 PM Doug: All who read this will share your pain. Thank you for such an intense reminder of an on again off again day. Keep them coming. oldbuck Doug Vinson June 12, 2017 at 7:42 PM OB, that Muse cut me to the quick....

Honestly J.T. May 30, 2017 at 7:43 PM Nice job; I can understand this feeling -JT Doug Vinson May 31, 2017 at 12:41 AM Ahoy, J.T. : ) Yeah, sometimes.....

Charmaine Chircop May 11, 2017 at 4:40 PM Oh it seems as if you're describing what every poet experience from time to time-A writers block.I'vebeen there many times.Your muse might get evil at times..but Im sure mine is crazy..It gets me to write in strangest of places..and disappears when it should easily have been there.Awesome poem. Doug Vinson May 12, 2017 at 11:01 AM Thank you, Charmaine. : ) I guess that muses may not like being taken or granted, or perhaps even go out of their way to be contrary.

John Herlihy April 24, 2017 at 3:00 PM When the words come, it is glorious. When they are reluctant to show up, we feel bereft. You describe this well in the poem. Seems like your muse has come back. John Doug Vinson April 25, 2017 at 12:14 PM Hey John. : ) That evil Muse has me imprisoned! : P

Eileen Manassian April 23, 2017 at 1:06 AM Yes...inspiration's cache is often offshore for me too...vanishing in the fog. Great descriptions here of what happens when our muse just teases, but doesn't deliver...Hey...this makes for a good poem! Doug Vinson April 23, 2017 at 6:18 PM Such a bummer when things vanish, Eileen. A theme, a half a sentence....

Linga Siva April 22, 2017 at 1:18 PM Wow. Powerful write mate. Siva Doug Vinson April 23, 2017 at 6:14 PM Hey Linga, good deal. Sometimes, the Muse wins...

Charles Coon April 22, 2017 at 11:58 AM Experientially well expressed! Thanks, Doug... Doug Vinson April 23, 2017 at 6:12 PM Hi Charles. : ) Thanks.

Rev. Gerald Dillenbeck April 17, 2017 at 7:11 PM Sounds claustrophobic. You know, you really should get out more. Always appreciate your vulnerabilities, and your humor. thx for sharing both. Gerald Oliver Doug Vinson April 18, 2017 at 7:36 AM Thank you, Gerald. Good to see you again.

John Michaels April 15, 2017 at 6:08 PM I love how you've turned the writer's block cliché into an almost tangible struggle! Given an entirely new spin and, hopefully, banished His Evilness back to where he belongs! Well done! Doug Vinson April 15, 2017 at 9:38 PM Ahoy, John. : ) Thanks.

Agona Apell April 15, 2017 at 7:19 AM An eloquent weave of thought! Great use of imagery. Doug Vinson April 15, 2017 at 1:10 PM Hey Agona. : ) Thank you.

Carole Duet April 12, 2017 at 12:29 PM Hello again Doug! Well, I hope that "evil muse" will just live in the closet somewhere in your house. Lock him up...even though he managed somehow to inspire you to write this appealing poem. Doug Vinson April 12, 2017 at 6:51 PM Hi Carole. Sigh... I just don't know what to do about that doggone Muse....

Anne-Marie Coreggia April 12, 2017 at 8:03 AM Doug, from beginning to end, your words were insolently brilliant:) Amitiés Doug Vinson April 12, 2017 at 8:23 AM Thanks, Anne-Marie. : ) Let's hope our Muses never really go bad.

Anil Deo April 10, 2017 at 8:49 PM On second reading, Poet Doug Vinson, you got the better of the Evil Muse. It cannot deny such originality as in, "insolent ceiling," and "Every poem unwrote itself," and yet you have this gem. A 7, and YES. i remembered to select from the rating box above. Doug Vinson April 11, 2017 at 7:12 PM Hey Anil. : ) Thanks!

Teddy Kimathi April 7, 2017 at 8:27 AM Congrats Doug, for your WIN with this wonderful piece!! ;-) Doug Vinson April 7, 2017 at 11:06 AM Teddy, thank you, my friend. : )

Suzanne Delaney April 7, 2017 at 5:09 AM Hi Doug: This is my zone at the moment. I am hoping an organized house-at last- and all the spring blossoms will bring her out. She is elusive though- as you say, " ...always a quarter turn ahead. Enjoyed this notable piece and thanks for your visit to my page. Made my day. Hugs, SuZ Doug Vinson April 7, 2017 at 11:05 AM Cheers, Suzanne, thank you. : ) I hope she smiles on you, yet to me she seems unaccountable, even to the season and a clean house. She hits me up on the way to work, when I'm stuck in traffic, when my hands are dirty and greasy, torn-apart things in front of me...: P

Kim Rodrigues April 6, 2017 at 11:01 PM Dream-like feel to this poem. Great! Doug Vinson April 7, 2017 at 10:58 AM Yo, Kim. Hope so - it *better* be dreamlike... : P

Phillip Garcia April 6, 2017 at 10:39 PM Reading this after reading your dog poem was a head trip. Tons of mind blowing metaphors that insist on being explored multiple times. Very cool, Doug Doug Vinson April 7, 2017 at 10:57 AM Thanks, Phillip, I appreciate that. How personified can the Muse be? We may talk about "summoning" her (or him, if we so perceive), but can she directly, positively effect us, to the point of removing us?

Beautiful Scars April 6, 2017 at 3:56 PM Such depth filled with amazing metaphors...loved it..thank you and congrats... Doug Vinson April 6, 2017 at 9:38 PM Hey Laura. : ) Gracias.

John Bertin April 6, 2017 at 12:22 AM A metaphysical nightmare. It causes me to glance around the room I'm in. Great poem! Doug Vinson April 6, 2017 at 2:18 PM Hey John. Does the Muse come into our world, or do we...

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