Aug 2020
Fishing for my muse
but he eludes me.
A futile quest to catch
mere sprats.
Other times they gush in torrents.
He teases me, I’ll warrant;
lets them drop into my lap,
words, fast & fat.
He commands the waters
but I will catch him for my tea
& feed my famished poetry.
but he eludes me.
A futile quest to catch
mere sprats.
Other times they gush in torrents.
He teases me, I’ll warrant;
lets them drop into my lap,
words, fast & fat.
He commands the waters
but I will catch him for my tea
& feed my famished poetry.
Another old Vss365 from Twitter. Prompt word was muse. Does anyone else feel this feast or famine, when some poems write themselves and others can't be grasped?
