Broken Appointment


The bitch.

I sat there
in my usual spot.

Fingers poised;
ready.

Usually,
it just flows.

It begins as a trickle
with me
peck, peck, pecking my way
onto the page.

Then she takes hold
and the scenes
unfolding behind my eyelids,
magically
find their way
to the page.

Magic.

It really does
feel like that.

She has hold of me.

My fingers glide,
unbidden,
forming the images
in my mind’s eye.

The world around me;
forgotten.

The page and me.

That is all
there is.

But not today.

My Muse
broke our appointment;
again.

Fickle bitch.

Copyright (C) 2018 Penny Wilson

The Thirst Remains


The need in me

to spew forth my thoughts

is undeniable

My fingers are drawn

to the keyboard

searching for that release

I’m the junkie

twitching

for his next fix

I’m the drunkard

looking for his next drink

I’m the lover

yearning for the touch

of your skin

I long

to watch the letters

flow across the screen

as I chase

the cursor

The cursor is

mocking

me today

My thoughts will not

emerge upon the page

Today

the thirst will

remain

Copyright (C) 2018 Penny Wilson