I Am Not Amused
I don’t find my muse amusing
Quite the opposite in fact
She lacks consideration
And has no acquaintance with tact
She wakes me at three in the morning
Because she has something to say
Never caring that we humans
Prefer to work in the day
I stumble across the room to the computer
Turning it on only to wait
Pondering the grave injustice
Of being a poet by fate
Finally, my fingers get active
Typing the words that I hear
Singing so demanding so crisp and clear in my ear
Inspiration stops as my muse decides to take a break
Leaving me at the computer alert and fully awake
As I try to think of words to begin another verse
I’m struck again that my muse is very perverse
Some might find it amusing to me it a trial and more
But I’m not complaining words and I have a certain rapport
That my muse helped me develop over years of nighttime chit chat
I just wish she was more of a diplomat
©2008 Bobbi Ann Duffy
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