Saturday, March 19, 2011

The 'Musing' Hour......


The navy curtain drops lower and lower
Until the last shades of purple-gray
Succumb to the hem of midnight’s bower
Like a lid closing on another day
This is the poet’s musing hour
As noise and distraction melts away

Beneath a poet’s skin breathes mystery
That he or she is unable to explain
A surge of angst and ecstasy
A blend of bitter-sweetest pain
Enhanced perhaps by fantasy
Or the murmur of a warm spring rain

The musing hour breeds a peculiar insanity
Yet I do not endeavor to run
But draw my Muse closer to me
Tangent as the lingering kiss of the sun
Here I languish thoughtfully
Where love and longing become one

The musing hour cradles fondly
Every wordless wish and whim
As inspiration flows profoundly
From the whispers of a pen
Wise and sane folk slumber soundly
Musing hours are not for them…….

Janet~

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