Iron Poet, Round XII.

[cadhla]

Welcome to the latest round of Iron Poet, the game where you give me three words and I give you a poem. This is an adaptation of a standard writer's workshop activity, and I do not claim the original concept. I just claim to enjoy doing it

Comments

[carmiel]

I may be too late, but if not...

son
blonde
smiles

free verse ok? if not allowed whatever your muse give you. :)

My Muse Gives Me.

[cadhla]

Whatever my muse gives me?
Well, she gives me sticky smiles.
Says the man that she went home with last night
Looked blonde under the neon bar-lights,
That his eyes looked absinthe-green,
That he told her he was Circe's son,
And that she's still a sucker for
A myth outside its moment.

So that's why I missed my deadline.
And that's why I smell like vodka.
I didn't do the drinking,
But I got the hangover.
It's so nice to have a muse.

What my muse gives me?
Well, she gives me lipstick kisses.
Says the man that she went home with last night
Was much uglier come morning,
But the sex was still fantastic,
And if Medusa was his mommy,
That didn't really change a thing.
Did I mention she's not picky?

So that's why I missed my deadline.
And that's why I have a headache.
My muse is sacked out on the sofa,
And I have lots of work to do.

It's so nice to have a muse.

Re: My Muse Gives Me.

[carmiel]

That is like so Flipping Awesome! I love it.

Ahem, thank you very much.

squeeeeeee

Re: My Muse Gives Me.

[mneme]

This is great -- and funny, of course.

Re: My Muse Gives Me.

[dormouse_in_tea]

*makes snorking noises trying not to laugh too loud at work*

Re: My Muse Gives Me.

[linenoise]

I <3 this one. The flipside of having a muse.