<u>Idle Musings</u>


    <u> </u>


    My muse is dead, muse is gone


    The pen lays silent; its ink dried on.


    For inspiration has no price


    Yet I cannot afford,


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    The strength of will,


    The power of mind,


    To write a single word.


    Her wings be cut, her voice be silent,


    Tears are all she gave.


    My muse is dead, my muse is gone


    If only I’d pressed save.


    To stare forever at an empty page


    Writer’s block in writer’s hand


    To look upon a pristine canvas


    And wish ‘twere not so bland


    Mayhaps inspiration is like lightning


    Energy pure and true


    And yet if it be lightning


    One strike will never do


    All alone, empty headed, deadlines stared down dead time.


    And yet when the mood takes me


    My muse is once more mine.