Ode To My Muse Poem by Debby Pizzo
Ode To My Muse
My muse is such a fickle thing;
She strikes
Just when she pleases.
But when she whispers in the night
It's my slumber that she teases.
Intruding on
The remnants of a dream,
She will not be ignored;
To emerge from blankets
Soft and warm....
A thing I truly do abhor.
Words whirling round
Inside my brain....
I'm half asleep;
It's such a strain...
To get up and write them down
Is really quite a pain.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/1/2024 3:12:25 AM # 1.0.0.1119
