NEED OF A MUSE

My creativity has become

An act of leisure

If I practice it at all

Its only for your pleasure

That you be impressed

By poems I to you send

Is the veritable cause

And not a selfish end

When you acknowledge receipt

The Poet in me thrives

It does not really matter

If you praise or criticise

Right now the aridity is setting

The fount is drying up

Send me a few drops of liquid

Just to prime the pump

The Poet sits silent

Hanging down his head

Make the fountains gush again

Bring forth what must be said

Let not ideas hibernating

Sleep this age away

Let not phrases and words

Be bubbles flown away

Help me turn those nebulous thoughts

To concrete forms of vision

Create, write and invent

New forms of expression

Forms that may delight many

Or even one or two

As I said it doesn’t matter

As long as it reaches you