Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
My Muse is content. She sits quietly Watching the rain , petting a fat old cat My Muse sleeps soundly. Not a word to hear From her frantic pen, Or her blank pages. My Muse is happy. No tear laced anger Threatening to rip her apart, Giving birth a poet's art.
0
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 5:13 PM UTC
Her still pen.
My Muse is content. She sits quietly Watching the rain , petting a fat old cat My Muse sleeps soundly. Not a word to hear From her frantic pen, Or her blank pages. My Muse is happy. No tear laced anger Threatening to rip her apart, Giving birth a poet's art.
The more happy I become, the less I fill my poem book.
elizabeth-brotzman
Written by
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 5:13 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem