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














Comments
--
I refuse to have a battle of wits with an unarmed person, so I believe you are free to go.
--
*Writers-Club *Constructive101 ~soul-paper-lit-club ~Princess-Zelda-Club
NaNoWriMo: [link]
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I refuse to have a battle of wits with an unarmed person, so I believe you are free to go.
--
"To really ask is to open the door to the whirlwind. The answer may annihilate the question and the questioner." - Lestat
--
*Writers-Club *Constructive101 ~soul-paper-lit-club ~Princess-Zelda-Club
NaNoWriMo: [link]
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