Where My Muse Walks

   My Muse

there’s a tingling in my fingers
my muse makes my fingers itch
they search for a pen before
I realize they’re even moving
words appear and spill out
blood, bile and vomit
on the page of my notebook
when I thought I was growing
daisies and roses
ghosts hover and wolves howl
I wanted hopping bunnies
but the wolf ate the bunny
and blood runs like a stream
down the path my feet are treading

 
 
Does your muse ever wander off into the forest?
Do you ever finish a poem and go – “Wait! That’s not what I was going to write!”

I have linked this post to Open Link Night at dVerse check out the other poems and poets here.