My muse comes with the rain.

She sails her great ship on the raging wind.

My muse comes with the rain
Sails her great ship on the raging wind
Illuminated by the electric flash
Singing her songs in the low, rumbling thunder

                

She tells me of the places she’s been
                and the people’s she’s met and the
                words that she spoke and the whispers
                she heard and the time that she’s spent
                and I sit at a desk and I frantically write
                in an old notebook and she talks and she
                talks and she talks and I write, write, write
                until the pitter patter, drip, drop, drop of
                the rain fades away and the thunder rolls
                on and the lightning snatches her away

And then, for days, I sit and ponder
On the echo of her voice
Which rings and rings
In my head for a day, a week, a month

And I jot and I scribble and I scrawl
And fill up pages and pages and pages
With people and lands and whole worlds made of words
And when I run out I sigh and I

stare out the window
and wait for the rain.

Author's Note

It rained. I wrote.

Reviews

[Ahmad Cox]

I really appreciate how you share your inner muse and what inspires you to write.

[Samoda]

"and for days I sit and ponder on the echo of her voice" - loved that line!

[Sami Khalil]

A wonderful write...Thank you for sharing...:).................

[Stephanie]

I can totally relate. I have like 5 poems written about the rain because I love it so much. It inspires me as I see it inspires you. I wish it could rain all the time so I would never have a dry spell! This was wonderful. It moved along at a good pace, I could tell the words just fell all over the page as soon as you thought them up and I loved it.

[John]

One of the best poems I've read about the creative process. Well done.