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So Creeping Jennie was my inspiration for this poem.� I am sure anyone who writes with any frequency, can relate.

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Muse Killer...

inspiration lost... my muse I cannot find

happy-go-lucky lines, finding their hole to hide in, making me search far from base

good spot i must say... 

when i read the signs, that should point the way, they appear upside-down

blank wordless sheets of metal, bolted permanently to their posts

no "stop" "go" or "caution"... no provocation for inspiration

wishing they'd merge, and show me the way

searching for words, with no direction

finding my pencil broken, no ink protection 

like finding the beach bare with no water or waves to crash and soothe just an endless reach of sand

like times square soulless... no one to avoid walkaround, or run into just empty streets

how well can a muse hide when there is nothing to hide behind? 

~Bk