My Muse Is Laughing At Me

I am looking at Poetry Soup’s contests, but nothing seems “hot”. Thought something would pop up in my imagination, but it does not. Began reading other people’s poems, hoping to stir the brain pot. Made some comments on many, confused by others, there are a lot. This website has changed my life, has helped me not feel stale, or begin to rot, Yet, here, I sit, staring at a screen, wondering how I used to write well and a lot Because there are no words coming, no matter how hard I try to trot. I may have to give it a rest, and begin making poetry an afterthought. I usually do better when I relax, and make a list of favorite words to jot. Forcing myself to write is ridiculous, as it shuts my idea cells to naught. I had an idea yesterday, but did not write it down in time, so quickly forgot. My muse is napping in a comfy hammock, a virtual leave-me-alone-cot, And she’s not willing to help, until I grab an idea that is aptly caught. I think I will sit in the sun, and calm myself down, just relax in thought. It is the meditative times that the poems come unheeded, fast, and a lot.