Methinks My Muse...

[Spock]

Methinks my Muse is but a cruel prankster.

My mind, all clad in black (it then a mourner

For inspiration lost), turned 'round a corner

And fast was clasped by Need to Write. The Gangster

Held my brain at gunpoint. Deep in angst for

Sweet release, I begged my heart's Sojourner

To find for me some glorious page-adorner,

The words of which I'd owe him endless thanks for.

Thus went his plan to give my hand direction.

My Muse, it seemed, through such great pains had drawn it,

And, surely, greatness springs from great infection.

I staked my time and sanity upon it,

Expecting epic words of sweet affection.

But all it gave me was this pointless sonnet.

[jimharmon]

This sonnet is exactly why I invited you to join our group !

[Spock]

Well, thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed it. =]