Duress, The Muse Abused, Then Amused

Sweet-Art

Caress

Slowly

Fly to the sky if you must

But just find it

 

The darkness,

No whispers

No sense in what I see

How can I find it?

 

But  I see colors

Some pictures come and go

Loud bang, I scratch my head

Thoughts came like a feather kiss

 

Duress

Abused

Yet In you I find

That I can smile while I write

Author's Note

my muse, my friend.

Reviews

[barleygirl]

Your title is brilliant with the word sounds & the meanings provoked. I'm not sure if the poem lived up to the title, but it's equally interesting in different ways. All in all, this is an original & well-crafted way to show how it might feel when we are trying to get our wheels turning, as writers, those first fumbling steps with the muse, kind of like a tussle or tug-of-war over whose running things here!??!! Very imaginative & full of strong imagery (((HUGS))) fondly, Margie

[Mirror]

Thank you, Marg. I am happy you liked it.