Sonnet 8 (The Muses Have All Gone)

©2003 Alden Drake (Paul A. Haines)



The muses have all gone and left me here,
A poet staring at an empty page.
No inspiration comes to me I fear,
The words are locked inside a mental cage.
The ink dries slowly now upon my pen
As countless words have stuck upon my tongue
And yet I know not where I should begin
For all good words have far too oft been sung
Still staring down upon this field of white
That mocks me as I now begin to weep
Just fourteen lines is all I have to write
So I can finally go and get some sleep
Yet nothing moves to cause my arm to bend
And itís too late, for now here is the end.