©Kay Gorring

I tried to write some poetry but it wasn’t going well.
The time was dragging on and on and nothing seemed to gel.
Well…things were looking mighty bleak, my future wasn’t bright
when someone said, “I think a MUSE is all you need to write”.

“Aha,” I thought, “so that is it, I have to find a muse.”
I went straight off in search of one, I had no time to lose.
I looked all day, both high and low: my search had not progressed.
I could not find a single muse and now I felt depressed.

So, then I poured a hefty glass of ice-cold Chardonnay
and fairly soon, it seemed I had a heap of things to say.
I ran and found my notebook and I sharpened up my pen,
I wrote with poet’s passion, and I wrote, right there and then.

I wrote with joy; I wrote with tears, for poets need to share;
but woke up in the morning just a little worse for wear.
I cleared the empty bottles and the glass from which I drank;
but when I picked my notebook up – the bloody thing was blank!