Glad it Wasn’t a Raven

So I climbed atop my writing desk,

Sat still and quiet for a while,

Not in front or underneath,

To stop the verses running wild.


There was an air duct next to me,

Attempting quite to suck me in,

I felt myself lean toward it,

Wanting to squeeze between the vents.


Desirous craving is not helpful,

Many cloistered men have preached,

If I succeed and quell my passion,

Then what compels creative reach?


So I stay balanced with my books and pens,

Attention there under my nose,

Still I allow imagination leeway,

And Sometimes I follow where it goes.

— by me

Writing Desk

(Photographer unknown so here is where I found the picture.)

~ by April on March 22, 2013.

2 Responses to “Glad it Wasn’t a Raven”

  1. Impressed

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