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When I opened my notebook
Stared at fresh, snow-white paper
Whetted my black-blood pen
I thought I might have a chance

I thought of the subject
Let my mind turn its wheels
Let it hum a tune to work with
And my pen began to dance

Hand-in-hand my muse swirled
Teaching a pas-de-deux
My pen obeyed willingly
And mirrored every stance

What I saw I thought was magic
But much to my surprise
The competition blew away our work
We were known losers from one glance

Defeated before we entered the ring
My muse patted my shoulder and smiled
She put the pen into my hand
Good or bad, she wanted to dance
:iconannamaetezuka:

Author's Comments

A potential entry for =Scarlettletters's Magical Muse Contest.

Categorizing it as open because the only sense of structure is that the last word of each stanza rhymes.

This was actually inspired by the massively intimidating amount and quality of competition for this contest; I looked at a few pieces and their own intimidation and went "holy snap I do NOT have a chance in hell". But I still wanted to do it, just for fun, at the very least. Hence, this piece was born.

Comments


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:iconblonde-eyed-blue:
This piece is very good. I really like the wonderful use of rhyming. I really enjoy the inspiration coming to you. It is great.

--
I refuse to have a battle of wits with an unarmed person, so I believe you are free to go.
:iconblonde-eyed-blue:
you are welcome

--
I refuse to have a battle of wits with an unarmed person, so I believe you are free to go.
:iconscarlettletters:
Thanks for a great entry!

--
"To really ask is to open the door to the whirlwind. The answer may annihilate the question and the questioner." - Lestat

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June 28
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