My Muse is scared of going underground,
So she’ll not take me places too profound.
And, if she ventures deep into my soul,
She’ll tunnel through it like a digging mole
Who sniffs his way around because he’s blind
And never sees the things his nose will find.
Perhaps her fear that I’ll be trapped or hurt
Prevents my pen from prying ‘neath the dirt.
The times I’ve grabbed the map to Caves of Self,
She’s whispered, “Please return that to the shelf.”
I’ve wondered if she keeps my poems light
Because she deems my talents sadly slight
And hopes I’ll never have to fail and know
I’ve gone the deepest that I’ll ever go.
Great and very interesting story. Way to Go!!
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Thank you for taking the time to read and comment:)
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Have a wonderful Sunday – You have a great blog!
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Very clever and I can so relate to this.
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Thank you! Sometimes I wonder if insecurity keeps me from writing “serious work”; I might be the sort of person who fears having “my best” laughed at.
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