I had doubted my muse of late, but she has stepped up beautifully. I think I got in my own way by trying to force my pen to write. I created such dribble all I could do was mark through it and hope I didn't leave any of it around for someone to find.
Following my Muse's lead I wrote of topics I hadn't even considered a few weeks ago. It is odd to use abortion, travel, and spring in the same sentence, but that is where my pen took me. Those were the messages whispered in my head to create. I must clarify all though those three words are in the same sentence, they were all used in different poems.
I had one friend who asked me, "Where do you come up with this sh _ _?"
Well, I hope it isn't the term he used. I just tossed back at him, "It is called imagination." I am not sure he knows what that means if it doesn't have a rating on it as to content.
Writing can be running at full speed into an unexpected wall. Everyone who has picked up a pen knows what that feels like. I managed to get through this one. Hopefully I won't encounter it again for sometime to come. It is time to create; strike while the flint is hot so to speak.
Head on over to Confessions of a Laundry Goddess to read where my ink has been.