When Muses Die

We buried a muse the other day

For a poet laid down his quill

He said he'd never write again

For he simply refused to feel

Muses came from miles around

To tell their friend goodbye

Inspiration was everywhere

You should have heard them cry

They buried her in a special place

Up on Inspiration Hill

Paper flowers covered her grave

Her tombstone, the poet's quill

No one knows where muses go

When poets refuse to write

Maybe they simply disappear

Or maybe follow the light

The next time you get your writer's block

And you're feeling empty inside

Your inspiration has gone to a funeral

For another muse has died

Reviews

[C.R.A.]

This is great!
Keep up the good writing, I like to read more poems from you

[Henry]

Interesting ideas here. My muse is always unfortunately a woman, and when she goes so does my inspiration. But in here absence I turn my pain into art. Well written.

[Tina Kline]

Wow, this is impressive! This not is only very well written but the topic is fantastic! A sad tale indeed for when a writer suddenly refuses to write and we find our selves unable to write for a day or so. Brilliant writing indeed!