Museless Poems - Poems about Museless

My mind is on red training wheels Muse is gone and I’ve got a thrill In writing about shouting daffodils Moving around never staying still Lost in thought a fun place to be With original parts wonderful dreams The art of heavy hearts creating The next Noah’s ark in valley green And they’d say you’re manic and mad Why build an ark in...

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I used to be a poet Now I ain’t I could rhyme then But now I cain’t I sit, an idle artist Without paint Beneath the flecking statue Of a faded saint The pigeons eye me sadly As I sit Devoid of any feeling Without wit The sweeper of the street Thinks I’m a twit As I peruse blank pages I ain’t writ ...

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My muse has exited via the stage door She says my life is such a bore That the red spice wastes upon floor That I can try but find chewed up chore My memoirs are merit less with no flare My heart is useless for no one cares The stars are fruitless for at them I stare And do less than...

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My muse is on fire, she burns at the stake guilty of poetasting, and glaring mistakes Inferior rhymes with old Monoku outtakes blaze all around her, as embers are raked Badly blistered syllables, spark and flake Whilst lacklustre stories, continually bake A bard...

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“A” less Museless Poem (a lipogram) How is to be without; the use of my muse? Will it be the bedrock of future thoughts? Would it be foreboding; or be more-or-less just. To shorten this penury; of my written text. I need thoughts to flow from both hemispheres to the mighty pen. To be delivered upon This folio of...

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