The Tangled Branch Discussion Forums

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My Muse Passed Out

She got shit-faced
on grog and drambuie.

Been sleeping it off since Thursday.

My muse moved in with the mailman -
following him home one morning.

My muse hides in the attic with the rats
and the bats among the cardboard suitcases.
It sounds like she teaches them hopscotch.

My muse cashed my bonds
and split for Reno. I got a postcard.
Who sends postcards these days?

Pencils cause her deficient bones to snap.
Paper turns her translucent. The click-click
of my keyboard gives her the hiccups.

My muse has narcolepsy, Tourette syndrome
and crabs. She got into the bad weed,
guzzled the last of the bathtub gin.

My computer screen erases her memory,
gives her hives, or rickets.

I give up making excuses.


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Judging from this write I'd say your muse is over your right shoulder in robust good health singing like a Wagnarian opera star

Thank you, Indar.

I nicely played list poem. Many excellent images. I enjoyed reading them all. I think a different title might umbrella and embrace what you are saying better, rather than just focusing on one.

JMHO.

by George

FYI: I haven't had bathtub gin since college. I laughed.

Thanks George. Good observation concerning the title.
I appreciate your comments.

T

Apparently my muse partied with yours

Love it, T

Don't trust them.

Like it a lot, Tom.

They can be a little wayward.  Mine was missing for while, but came running and shouted in my ear when she miss-heard or wilfully misunderstood a reference to Whirled Poetry Day.  Right now she's carb-loading on bacon sarnies and cake ready for the long slog.  Not sure what she's drinking though, it's in a plain black bottle.

Too funny, Gyppo! Glad to see you.

I think your muse and mine are probably sisters from another mister. In fact, they're probably off somewhere getting drunk together and laughing at us while we're trying to write.