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Whilst the Muse Sits Idle

Haven’t sorted this years poems And another year is looming Yet my fingers dance and play Upon the keyboard every day Some say the poems that I write Are seamless, flowing, very tight Others pass them, look away Refer to them as cliched, trite Yet being “kind” I don’t reply Just shake my head and sadly sigh For they have missed the subtle twists Of metaphoric word play trysts So carry on you daring digits Whilst the muse sits idle, fidgets Write on, write on, add one more poem To last years ever growing tome John G. Lawless ©12/22/2022

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Mystic Rose Rose

Date: 12/24/2022 4:51:00 AM

Yes keep right on writing John, who cars what people see or don't see, you and I both know we write for the sheer love of it. Even if no one else appreciates it, God does, lovely sentiments, John :)

Jim Slaughter

Date: 12/22/2022 11:35:00 AM

Well, John, my muse tells me that the best poets really write for themselves, anyway. So if and when others read and enjoy what they have written, so much the better. I, at least, didn't "pass this one and look away'.

Maureen McGreavy The Insolent Rib

Date: 12/22/2022 6:50:00 AM

I have lost my words but yours… well, always impress me. xomo

Barry Stebbings

Date: 12/22/2022 6:38:00 AM

Very philosophical, John. Enjoyable poem to read, says it all really. // Barry

Deb M

Date: 12/22/2022 6:34:00 AM

Hey John….l really enjoy your poems. I hear you loud and clear about sorting this years poems…its been on my list forever and l still haven't crossed it off!!Ha…..Love this….Debx