My mind is a mess of ideas

I sit in nervous wonder at how my ideas remain

How I abuse them always and drive them all insane

I ignore them often, pushing them aside

Though they always remind me that they are always by my side

How I often think about the ones who have left me

How they were my best but they were forsaken by me

I wonder why then, that they do not rebel?

Why they do not turn around and make my life Hell

Like other authors say theirs do, I wonder why mine do not

I wonder if it is because my temper is so very, very hot

Maybe they don’t want to cross me

For I am as I am told – a force to be reckoned with

A formidable old soul

I don’t know what the answer is, but it is always clear

That those who leave me are very few

Those who stay are loved dear

But I keep getting new ones, constantly banging on my door

I get them so often, I am popular

It makes my head quite sore

I never know who to take and work on every day

It’s like a mother with too many children, each of them want to play

I can’t give my attention freely, some I will surely neglect

I wished my mind was more organised

Instead the mess in there makes me sweat

Oh so many stories and songs and poems and rants there too

I wouldn’t go into her brain says my husband, if I were you

But there I go again, thinking about this and that

I just wished I could get on with it

Whatever is next, in fact?

Leave a comment

Filed under About my work, Poems M - O

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.