The eyes of the dead are on me
I do not heed their tempting call
I write; as I have ideas galore
I feel that I can do so much more
"It's time, it's time" I hear them say
As poetry flows from my pen
I write of Earth and the oceans broad
Of trees and beasts and of river's ford
But those sad moans come thick and fast
Is that my wife now calling me?
Just one more haiku I plead and cry
Is must be the latest prompts I spy?
So the words still come and spill forth
Until I feel my wife's sweet kiss
So won't be here for the weekend's post
I had to choose that which I loved the most
Image found at Real Toads "Emperor of the Dawn" by Quincy Washington with permission
I like the rhythm and thyme in these lines, Robin:
ReplyDelete‘I write of Earth and the oceans broad
Of trees and beasts and of river's ford’.
An interesting comparison for the poetic muse.
ReplyDeleteLove is always the best choice.
ReplyDeleteAlso, what Kerry said.
Nice truth, Robin. Goodbye poetry for an evening. Hint: I find that when she goes to sleep first I can write sitting on the edge of the bed. No pictures though unless they come from ones my smart phone.
ReplyDelete..
I love that you lightened this up with your own musings. Hope you've had a great weekend!
ReplyDeleteNice comparison for a poetic muse
ReplyDelete