Muse
By: LadyWillow
Verses seem to magically flow
from my pen at night.
Is the darkness and silence a
magical force?
As soon as I touch my pen to
my paper, the words come and
I am powerless to stop them from
being scribbled in sweet
verses.
My poetry speaks no more
than the deepest, darkest
feelings
hidden within the vast
recesses of my mind.
Silent screams beg me to
write them.
I cannot decline, for as soon
as I write, the pain seems
so less.
My muse is quite resourceful.
Poem copyrighted to Jessica Knoll, 2002. This poem is actually copyrighted to my name. That means if you steal it you can be fined, and arrested. The jail time for plagerism is quite severe, so please save yourself the embarrassment and write your own poem. Thanks.
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