Special thanks to two wonderful poetesses Lin Lane and Tania Kitchin for joining me with this collaboration. 1/24/25
My muse has been hiding out And with no peep, squeak or shout She must be sound asleep No words, just counting sheep Tired of the poetry drought Oh where, O where has my gypsy muse flown Seems she has left me to write on my own I must not be too rude She'll cop an attitude And then taunt me like an evil old crone Mine vanished after my last book I've rested and changed my outlook My brain ran out of juice And my 'vowels' were loose Twas quite a feat that my muse took Honestly, I think mine is rebelling But there is absolutely no telling What my missing muse might do I dare not call her a shrew Or she'll never return to my dwelling Upon my desk, I see she's left a note "I'm on a vacation," is what she wrote "Perhaps I should've phoned To say I won't be owned." Should I have mentioned her in a footnote? Perhaps she's in a gypsy caravan Seeking a lover, a Romani man Living a nomadic life If he takes her for his wife I'll need a new muse and a new game plan My muse is now knocking on my door Searching for my words left on the floor She is gathering my lines Blending them like a fine wine Hoping for a few new poems and more Well, recently my muse returned Her holiday was very well earned I'll write sensible words Not on pooping or turds Poop poetry, my muse has spurned My muse is back after weeks refusing And now she can't stop yakking and schmoozing Three muses have returned But we're a lil' concerned... What if we don't find their thoughts amusing?
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