Salvaging Remains of Muse
“My muse died at 2 a.m.
she hadn't been well in weeks,
writing drab, soulless poetry
without alluring alliteration,
any references to the Greeks.
Too pooped to savor the flavors
of a good, old fashioned write,
she chose in her frustration,
to abandon her life station,
to just give up the fight.”
So left to draw from memories
of her great creative essence,
I’ll paste together bits and pieces,
of her wondrous masterpieces
to salvage her quintessence.
Copyright © M. L. Kiser | Year Posted 2020
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment