A Padded Cell Would Be Calling My Name
If I ever lost my muse
My mind is not a place for the feint-hearted to visit,
In fact, at times it has me running from sheer fright,
It scurries at a speed that should be made illegal,
But it knows it’s my superior — so I don’t even attempt to fight.
**
But there is one that I discovered at a very young age,
One that tempered my mind and tamed its rage,
Settled its fears, scolded its outbursts, soothed its tears,
And at times, silenced its rampage.
**
That one is my beautiful muse,
Who taught me how to write,
She adopted my metaphorical pen,
And set my mind alight.
**
Now I just sit back and let her do her thing,
She won’t be caged, she cannot be thwarted, she insists on it her way,
She stays connected to my dastardly mind,
And ensures that it gets to have its say.
**
Within the resulting words that spill across the page,
You’ll find my torment, my torture, my pain,
This is in no way to make you feel pity on my behalf,
It’s simply my muse helping me stay sane.
**
Pages and pages will read of the beauty of past love,
But the darkness of loss and grief will seep into my rhyme,
My muse showers me with support on the heaviest of days,
Taking my tears and agony to suspend in my words online.
**
She tethers my chaotic and smooths out my hyperactive thoughts,
Taking my mixed up jumble and switches it up a notch,
She sprinkles it with temperance,
As I just sit back and watch.
**
If I was to lose my muse, you’ll find me locked from this world,
A padded cell would be calling my name,
My nightmares would win the battle,
And my mind would scorch my sanity in flame.
**
My words would lose their power,
They’d barely even make sense,
I hate to think of who I would be,
If my mind was unfettered at my expense.
Please click the link below my name to read more of my work. I would also like to thank you for taking the time to read this today and for all your support.
If you enjoy this piece, you may enjoy this one too.
Please visit my website if you'd like more information on my newly published book, Battle Angel : The Ultimate She Warrior.
Originally published on Medium
About the Creator
Colleen Millsteed
My first love is poetry — it’s like a desperate need to write, to free up space in my mind, to escape the constant noise in my head. Most of the time the poems write themselves — I’m just the conduit holding the metaphorical pen.
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Comments (4)
I think Mike would be able to relate to this! Loved your poem!
My mind can be my enemy, too. A past therapist had me develop wry angels as characters to help me not take my thoughts so seriously (OCD).
So I need to find myself a muse? (My therapist would be thrilled!) May you & your muse enjoy a never-ending relationship.
Great writing! "But the darkness of loss and grief will seep into my rhyme," very powerful and deeply touching.