tick-tock, tick-tock,
the clock still knocks,
on the window of my eyes.
rules, my mother says:
“six hours of sleep,
that you must keep;
switch off the PC now,
go to bed,” with love;
I start counting sheep.
but midnight, midnight,
that’s writing hour;
along comes a thought,
yes, I love it a lot,
and can’t sleep right.
to hell with all rules,
I say and off I go,
switch on the PC now,
and type what I know;
till my heart is content,
and pride I can show.
Mom watches, silent,
nothing she can do too,
till my muse is happy,
I write what I love to.
Linked with OctPoWriMo (Day 4, When Rules and Inspiration Meet)
(’12, Oct 04)
Vinay Leo R.
Poetry & writing are to me, a breath of fresh air in a life that is sometimes covered by the smoke of sorrow or self doubt. They also become the sweets I share to celebrate when life offers me a reason to. But most of all, they are to me, my life. For each word I write is a piece of my heart, a thought that just had to find its way into the world.
Like this very, very much Vinay. As you know, I do this a lot!
Yeah. I think most of us do, Susan š
– Leo.
Ha ha ha … this is what I do most of the time š
Thank you, GS. I guess most of us do š
– Leo.
Me too š
š Et tu Elle? š Glad.
– Leo.
Good write, my time is 4-6am the golden hour for me
I awaken after your golden hour then, Bruce š Thanks!
– Leo.
Ha, I enjoyed it tremendously. It’s true that the muse comes at odd hours and it cant be controlled. Keep the muse alive!
My mom would prefer proper hours I guess, but she can’t control my muse š Thanks, Clarice.
– Leo.