I stare at blank pages;
They call to me
with ancient rhythms
as my Muse
sits on my shoulder,
wearing a jester's hat,
drinking rum
from a tin cup,
teasing me
into believing
he has a few words
of wisdom
to fill my empty pen.
A fickle fellow is he!
Sometimes I want to
hug him tight;
Other days I want
to trade him in
for a bit of eloquence.
Today I just chuckle back at him
as he passes me his bottle of rum.


Comments: 13
Hugs and blessings - S.
Damon, My Annoying Little Muse
I miss him, I really miss him.
Featured on Poet's Weekly Muse!
Myke