Manuscript Musings

Yesterday my mind was a blank.
I suffered a writer's dead calm.
But now thought waves begin to stir
and I think I know who to thank.

A stack of books served as a balm,
along with our pussycat's purr,
and some recent rain played a part.

This fresh ambience serves me well
and wards away melancholy.

I'll have no thoughts cruel or tart
nor a vainglorious head swell
serving to augment my folly.

Melancholy for the poet
is necessary I suppose,
but I like to keep it in check;
those streams of bad thought will blow it
should I hope to retain repose
when I'm starting a lyrical trek.

Why seek more than the standard
state of simian disgrace?

Because gentlemen seek their muse
and organized thought is meandered
when smitten with a lovely face.

Sound verse keeps thought I refuse to lose!