An orphaned idea
Clothed with words
A look of confused confidence
I search for a title
Puns lined up
Witticisms ready to launch
Twist after twist itching away
A touch that will elicit a tear
A lyric waiting to flow
Am I trapped in my own clichés?
The joy of creation
And the art of savoring it
Is heightened when consumed
And consumed it is
As I watch the words disappear
The backspace key leaves no traces
I reread it for the fortieth time
And smile to myself in disbelief
And appreciation for the chord it touches
Oh this is the perfect poem
Why of why wasn’t it written by me!
Five lines
Twelve words
One image
An audience captured
A poet triumphs
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7 comments:
i cannot help smiling at "A Muse".
dude, the last 5 lines are stand alone as a poem.
:-) Thank you. You can see how short one can be of ideas if this is how one looks for inspiration.
you need to take a vacation with your partner and rediscover the muse again.
Retorts, retorts: I have inspiration for those, but I'll let it pass :-)
i thought i could hear muffled cheering in the background. will have to ask RT for the inside story.
"Am I trapped in my own cliches?"
Lovely!
How I love your stuff! Mostly the economy. You know exactly how to let it ramble, without it getting lost.
Aki: I am sure all of us have felt like the perfect piece of art just flew through someone's else thoughts
Shreya: Thank you for the compliment. Glad to know my style is reasonably on-target :-)
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