My Muse Wants to Dance

Here's a little poem I came up with as I was in a particular sort of mood. I wanted to paint, but my mind wouldn't "sit still" so to speak... I haven't written poetry in a while, but I wanted to give it a try. I like it.

The Dancing Muse

I think of how to quiet my mind,

When my mind will not respond or yield.

Visions flow around me:

A wing, a whisper, a fae...

Unable to stop once started.

I try to make reason from them.

To coax them to my dominant had, so bent on working.

To weave them into a known pattern.

My cat chases a bottle cap: Completely consumed.

I wish for a moment I could have that focus,

and force something out.

But to force my muse, is like forcing my cat.

Both have a mind of their own,

and my muse is on Fire today.

This is better than the usual 

stumped feeling I have.

And yet so much harder to control.

I long for control...

My hand wants to dance as my muse does--

Little attention for reason or refrain.

No one shall contain my muse today, 

Not even myself, its owner;

and my hand wants to join in. 

I should be annoyed... I am.

I have plans for the day and I am trying to control my muse,

Myself.

My muse laughs at my sullen state.

She offers a hand so I may join her.

So I decide to watch the pictures she brings forth in my mind.

My muse will quiet down eventually, 

Tire herself out,

and lead me towards what I should create...

But not just yet,

First, it chooses to dance!