My Muse Marches Out Lines of Poems
Poems tiptoe into my dreams and fill up all my sleeping space
Thoughts of mythical creatures, maybe a wonderful brilliant thing
They are swirling and twirling, each in own unique place.
Without any thought of my well-being, they banter and they brace.
Throwing out a plethora of inane ideas, without any obvious taste or grace.
Subliminal faerie clips,
float into my lavish fantastical dreams on an angel’s wing.
Unaware, I slumber on, my breathing at a quiet, gentle, meditative pace.
Knowing not what my early morning poetry will savagely or lovingly bring.
Poetry seizes me in my sleep, and holds me hostage even after I am awake.
Unaware while I am astral traveling,
but morbidly aware when I leap out of bed.
Her metaphors and nuances wind around my dendrites,
without a quiver or a quake.
Unbeknownst to my quieted essence, as I travel around moonlight’s silver lake.
Quickly aware, when I begin throwing out ideas and full passages
the minute I awake.
My imagination is spouting phrases and rhymes that seem curiously well-read.
Thoughts slither and sneak around me in teasing ways,
like the skin of a sleek snake.
My muse marches out lines of poems,
knowing my therapeutic need to be so fed.
Written 2-21-2019
Contest: Poetry and Me
Sponsor: Silent One
Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2019
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