M. L. Kiser Poet Diminished Hexaverse

Muse Erupts

Haunting dreams awake me;
I must analyze them;
Awake, up and penning;
Muse erupts through my hand.
I’m writing so swiftly;
I misspell; skip letters;

To ignore, betrays
And she will not hush.
“It’s time that we slept!”
I say, she replies back, 
“No! Not now; just write!”

My bloodshot eyes
Following ink;
Skip a letter; 
No going back.

Her lava
Spews on page
After page.

Brutal 
Slaver;

Muse.

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Sandra Adams July 9, 2019 at 7:46 PM Just like a muse, fickle sometimes and wants what it wants at the most inappropriate moments...i know that moment you describe, i think all poets do....good one! :) M. L. Kiser July 10, 2019 at 1:46 PM Thanks so much.