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!
.JPG)
