Muse Unbound Poem by Brian Hinckley
Muse Unbound
Given often to poetic speech,
I sometimes forget the subject.
I think in flowery prose,
leading my words to be less direct.
When I write,
my thoughts form perfect.
My imagination explodes,
my passions begin to connect.
Driving beyond conventional thought,
my prose become heated.
Faster they burn to the page,
my fire never becoming depleted.
I live in a world constantly in flux,
music and prose dance about me.
My muse guides every thought,
constantly whispering 'Set me free'.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/19/2024 11:08:50 PM # 1.0.0.1119
The Spoiled Muse Sounds as if your 'Muse' Is accustomed to over use And like a cat at the door Demands to be let out Now if Not Before. But when denied he will, As many an owner will tell, Make a mess on the floor When he can't get out the door. s (It's really hard to keep those poetic impulses under control.)