WHO’S THE BOSS
Dear muse, my brain
Has gone so mushy,
Pray come take part,
Please do not refrain,
Want to write a poem
That’s gushy.
My paper white and blank,
My thoughts no spark,
My mind once was a thinking tank,
Now buried deep and dark.
Imagination crushed,
Letters prefer to hide and seek,
Words that flash by, dashed,
My muse the culprit, am I too meek?
My inclination to write gone,
I think I must curl up and die,
Can’t even write a song,
Must find a far far place to cry.
Word got out I was unhappy,
Another muse phones me,
Says she alone takes any credit,
No thank-you don’t you see,
Where would be my merit?
I heard a far faint voice,
I ‘ll never leave you, I’m no fake,
It was the only choice,
I’m part of you and you part of me,
I just needed a break.
So, let’s get to work,
I think you’ve done quite well,
Yesterday I overheard,
Someone say you’re swell.
Together we’re a team,
A thought just crossed my mind,
It’s sometimes good to let
Off steam,
First lets wine and dine,
And then a dreamy subject find.
Copyright ©
Jennifer Proxenos
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