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(33) The Attack of the Muse



I don't understand it. I am snowed under with work galore.

I have a dozen things to do all by tomorrow or next Thursday.

I have just made a snack and sit down at the computer to read and eat,

when without warning a phrase goes pop, into my head.

I have to write that down.

Fifteen minutes later I have a poem.

A wretched silly poem!

I also have a cold bowl of rice with hot-sauce,

and none of my work even started.

An hour later I am happy with the tweaking of said poem,

but realise that some people are not going to cope with it at all.

Why me? Why did the muse attack me at this time?

Why was I selected to bring this vision to fruition?

Did everyone else turn it down?

That must be it.

I got the left-overs.

Everyone else had the good sense to not get involved in such a poetic travesty.

Not me though, oh no.

I had to go and let myself be used by the dark side to write and post the poem.

I should have signed it as Darth Downunder. No too obvious.

A poem for bedtime...

"Safe As Houses" now at Codey's World



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Read it. Love it. Want to hear it! Though why not post it here too? Hmm.My only comment: Death - to me - is more personal, and definitely not an 'it'. Then that's me, and you're you! If you haven't read Terry Pratchett's 'Mort', then please do, and all will become clear!!!Great poem, DesCamy :hug:

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Thanks Camy.A legitimate concern about my use of "it", but I wanted to hide the personification of Death as a wolf. so I chose "it" in my haste to do that without, considering the implications. I was hoping you would like the poem. :hug:

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I didn't read the poem. I couldn't, I'm still trying to understand why that bad ole muse attacked you during work time. I hope you pulled it aside and had a stern heart to heart. Sometimes muses are like that, if you leave them alone too long, they like to pop up and remind you to pay attention.Jason R.I still didn't read your poem, for only one reason now, I don't think houses are all that safe. Nuff Said.

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Jason It seems the muse was toying with what is left of my mind.I have tied the muse to the bed and every so often I go and tickle it.As for you not reading my poem because you don't think of houses as being safe, you may well be comforted to know that the poem vindicates your thought, at least in this case.Now if you excuse me I have some muse tickling to do.

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