This is a poem I wrote a while back for some contest that I ended up never entering. It felt unusual writing it, because it's freestyle which I've never tried before. Well, here it is...
Inspiration
Once a room, now an expanse of various plots.
Once a desk, now a breadth of unfinished ideas.
Somewhere in this ocean of notions it dwells,
Just out of my sight, it disguises itself as
An unimportant piece of dead fiction, or
Even as a poem, that obscurity has claimed.
Perhaps outside, I peer through my draperies
To see the urban land throb with hurried life
Each person below more wrapped in themselves
Than the one before, their leisure snatched up
In the city's hasty rhythms that envelope us.
It may have been here once, now no longer.
Shifting through the dragon nibbled pages
Of my life, I find its remnants, the miscellany
That was left behind on my fanciful drawings.
I miss the whispered words of whimsy and
Look to the dusty tomes upon my shelves
That cry as their pages are softly turned.
Making a cup of tea, I know it cannot resist
Sitting in my chair, I wait and sip, knowing
That when I most need it, it will appear
From within my stories, from beneath my notes,
Or materializing from my heart. I smile,
My inspiration will come back to me soon.
~Myrtle
Reborn:: Guild for the Contemporary Christian
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