The Instrument

Eyes begin to close
And a yawn begins to form
Yet the mind running faster
The hand writing away

Not much thinking involved
Just follows its controller
Try to tell it to slow down
But just keeps going as if a race

The writing instrument beckons don't leave
I can be there,I won't leave
Until the last word of the controller
Frantically scribbling away

Reviews

[The Rock And Roll Cowbo..]

I relate to this poem cause I often feel like I am just the vessel for some unseen being to get their word out. I really like this one.

[Matching Socks]

I wonder sometimes if it's passion or obsession. It's a fine line that really wavers.

[NoelHC]

I related to this, there are times when the writing can't stop, and when you do, you realize it is 3 AM and you have to be at work in four hours. You portrayed that well in these words.

[Michael G. Smith]

In a frenzy of blessed curse. You defined it perfectly!

[Jackson H. Harley]

I love this, the concept is one I am all too familiar with, great work :)

[Trace]

The battle between the poet and the muse?
I feel this way so often.


Nice work here.

Trace

[MsJewel]

When our muse finds us we must write...
Your poem is lovely.

:) Julie

[Ashira Macy]

Fascinating. In this one a see the person writing as though they are possessed by some other entity, perhaps inspiration or imagination manifested. And then when the inspiration starts to wain the person cries out for it to stay, not wanting to be left alone with their own mundane thoughts once again. Beautiful work dear, I like this one a lot.