Healing the mind with poetry

Some days the sun sets

And I’m glad it’s over

My smile won’t stay on

Any longer

I want to close the door

On the last of the burning rays

Shut myself away

Hunker down in the cool shadowy places of my house

The golden floorboards

Silk beneath my feet

The smell of oils

Greeting me

As I walk into my writing room

Sink

And let the poetry flow

Why does it do so easily

When my mood is jagged and broken?

Like a soothing friend

My muse lies back

on the old blue couch

Crosses her odd socks

Taking me in

Dictating comforting things

And as I write

The gloom evaporates

My veins run clean

The sluggish toxins removed

Half an hour later

I can almost be induced

To smile again

A little time with the muse

Is all a poet ever needs

20 thoughts on “Healing the mind with poetry

  1. I can say that the same thing happens to me! Beautiful images and lovely words! I truly admire your poetry and your poetic temperament and vision, the true signs of an artist, besides hard work! My greetings and all the best to you,
    From Spain,
    FBC

  2. Your muse and her odd socks 🙂 Love that. I picture them mis matched and full of color. Your muse brings the color back…….

    This is how I feel with my camera, speaking of which, I haven’t used in over a week, that’s just no good…….

  3. Oh yes. I can attest to this. The solitude can sometimes bring out the melancholy in us, but when we have something like writing, we can get it out of us and feel a little lighter.

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