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Beating my muse
by Steve Michaelsmy muse is staring at me from
behind the big screen, she's
clenching her fists and bleeding from
sharp nails and no attention.
I took a straw and
hit her with a
spitball a few
minutes ago.
A trooper, she showed me
her gums and winked.
I won't kiss her;
I know her
already.
10/11/2010 Posted on 10/11/2010
Copyright © 2024 Steve Michaels
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Therese Elaine on 10/12/10 at 04:43 AM The impish twist of inspiration, at times indignant with the stubborn refusal to acknowledge such an influence, until finally we submit, open palms and leering capitulation...sometimes you have to remind them just who is in charge around here! |
| Posted by V. Blake on 10/12/10 at 04:59 AM Really liked this one, Steve. Love the title, and pretty much everything that came after it. |
| Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 10/12/10 at 03:12 PM Awesome without pause. Really well put. |
| Posted by Anita Mac on 10/12/10 at 11:04 PM Oy. lol This is cute, but I do hope your muse has her turn giving the beating. |
| Posted by Alison McKenzie on 10/24/10 at 07:20 AM I've never given "my muse" a personality. But this is adorable. :) |
| Posted by Paul Lastovica on 10/24/10 at 04:15 PM at least your muse is within beating range - it's only fair to jack with your muse, she's bound to return the favor. |
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