Sunday, August 28, 2011

The Great Deceiver

asks us to consider our Muse


My Muse does not amuse me!
She chooses to abuse me!
She puts ideas inside my head
When I am lying in my bed,
Forcing me to stir my bones,
Rising with deep and midnight groans,
To hie me to my darkened desk!
In my night attire! Grotesque!
I seat myself, prepared to write,
Though it's the middle of the night!
But she, the miscreant, just hurts me,
For then the thought she gave deserts me.
The seed of greatness she inspired
Fades, and dwindles and grows tired!
Soon it fades away completely!
She doesn't even act discretely!
I hear her laugh as she takes her leave!
For she intended to deceive.
The great thought haunts me, almost there,
And yet quite vanished in thin air.
Nothing more to be done or said.
I go to the toilet and back to bed!


A fellow who liked doing tricks
Would take off his clothes just for kicks.
People said he was rude
When he danced in the nude
And he didn't impress any chicks!


Berowne said...

Your ability to handle iambic pentameter, with rimes -- rinkly or not -- continues to impress.

Mary said...

Oh, can I ever empathize! This made me smile!

author.nara.malone said...

One of these days I'm going to look up what iambic pentameter is. In the meantime, I know your poems make me smile and laugh. Absolutely love both of these.

Anonymous said...

Your posts are always so clever and entertaining! Thank you! Pen on!

Belva Rae Staples said...

I like this. It's humorous, but when it happens it is frustrating!

Madeleine Begun Kane said...

LOL! Fun limerick and hilarious Deceiver poem!

linda may said...

Oh yeah, I identify.Hahaha, like the limerick and associated illustration too.

Mike Patrick said...

Now I understand the time difference between my house and yours. When she leaves your house, she comes to mind and does the same thing. This is one evil muse.