My Muse
 

Once in a while, Muse grabs me good,
pulls my hair, my shirt, my foot
strangles, nips and tortures me
(I cannot stand that comfortably)
I write down all the words she speaks
on paper though my pencil squeaks.

They are not funny, bad as well.
There is no rests and you can tell.
She neither stops at night nor day
until she’s finished all the way.
But stunned I sometimes stare and stand
with a poem in my hand!
 

Katharina Gerlach, June 21st, 2009

 

Follow Me

RSS Feed for posts follow me on goodreads follow me on Facebook follow me on Pinterest

 

Books

Archives

Blog Awards

schöner lesen ohne Nazis

 

Liebster Blog Award 2011