Monday, 18 April 2016

Life, At Therisa's (April 18, 2016)

Just great
My talented muse
Has left me
A "Dear Writer" letter
Upon my pillows.

Telling me
She has ran away
With the Sprite
Next door
For parts unknown.

And I
Shouldn't be looking
For her return
Any time

As if
My all seeing
Crystal ball
Is working.

Never mind
One of the cats
Got curious
And knocked it
From it perch
In my bedroom closet.

It got spooked
By seeing
Its reflection
In the ball.

Lucky me
It wasn't
A mirror.

Another seven years
Of bad luck
On top of
My already
Negative karma index.

Last time
We talked
Muse was pissed
About the Sprite
Being "an airhead".

Wanting nothing
To do
With her.

The Sprite dances
An amazing
Mattress mambo.


My writer's block

Therisa © 2016

Author's note: An attempt to break my current writer's block, since last night. And yeah, I know, with an average of 2 poems/day, for April, I should jumping for joy. Call me, greedy. Now, where did I misplace my answering Golem? Should be, somewhere, in this organized Chaos, I call my apartment.

1 comment:

  1. I LOVE this poem. So playful and really made me smile.


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