pen poised over paper
dangling in mid-air
the words, they don’t come
for my muse went away
and in his wake
disjointed thoughts remain
unable to reconnect
these fragments of words
like dried leaves constantly
being swept away
by the wind blowing
as the door where my muse
-©The Elusive Scribe 011515-
photo credit: rosemarywitchridge.wordpress.com
Will you pour me a drink, dear?
That amber liquid will suffice.
I want a potent drink to dilute
the poisonous memories within.
This tongue longs for that bitter taste
that dull the senses with each sip
for the mind seeks the darkness
to still the raging torrent in me.
-©The Elusive Scribe 011415 –