A Chat With My Poetry Muse Poem by Kim Barney

The other day I had a little chat
with my Poetry Muse. I just call him
P. M. for short, though he's not short at all

'P. M., ' I said, 'Why can't I write any
new poems? Why don't you inspire
me anymore? '

'Oh, ' he said, 'Don't worry about that.
There are no new poems to write.
All of the good poems have been written.'

'That can't be true, ' I said. 'Just look at all
the poems that are posted every day
on Poem Hunter. Hundreds of them! '

'Look at (Name Withheld) , ' I continued.
'He has posted over ten thousand
poems all by himself! '

'Yes, and all of them together are not
worth as much as a pile of buffalo chips!
As I said, there are no more GOOD poems! '

'At least with buffalo chips, you can build
a fire! All of his poems are electronic,
so you can't even build a fire with them! '

'The trouble with N. W., ' he continued,
is that he tries to write poems in English,
and English is not his native language! '

'To him they must make perfect sense,
but to English speakers they are gibberish,
just like your feeble attempts in Portuguese! '

'Hey! ' I protested. 'I thought my Portuguese
poems were really quite good! '
'My point exactly, ' he retorted.

'Give it up, Old Man, ' said P. M.
'You can struggle all through the night,
But there are no poems left to write! '