thoughts on a muse

This post is a result of reading Neil Gaiman’s sandman followed by watching Rise of the Guardians. I started thinking about inspiration and what if he/she was real. I’ve no idea how i went from that idea to this poem but i guess thats just the nature of inspiration itself.


thoughts of a muse

Alone in his castle of creation.
The maestro sits drawing his insane dreams.
For what’s more insane than inspiration?
Crumpled ideas litter the flagstone floor.
On the pages a myriad of beasts
Dance madly through the tunnels of his mind.
His red rimmed eyes flit around the great hall.
His hair, once full, grows in grey random tufts
and one gnarled hand curls around his staff.
Ah me, the stories he once wove so well.
the tales he told, the images he made.
But old muse grew tired and he lost his way.
in days gone by he’d sit with the others.
Old man time and lustrous lady luck.
the greatest immortals watching the world.
Strength and Control would beg him for pictures
While innocence laughed and danced through the night.
But now where they sat is cobwebs and dust.
He wasn’t always empty and quiet.
The years of planting ideas took their toll.
Inspiration now shuns the world outside.
But even in his delirious state.
There’s moments of wonder around the globe.
The sculptor sculpts and the music man plays.
Alone in his castle of creation
The maestro sits drawing his insane dreams.
for what’s more insane that inspiration.

Stephen King

for a while now I have wanted to write something about the works of Stephen King. I was introduced to his work by My friend Chris who also Introduced me to the wide world of Blogging. there’s twenty King titles in this poem. see how many you can find.


The King of fear

When I was young I made a stand
about the books I read.
That I would read a scary tale
before I went to bed.
With Misery my dad agreed
and bought me Mr King
I turned over the first page
Of my brand new needful thing.
Under a dome of shining words
my mind was carried away.
Insomnia filled my waking night
and nightmares filled my day.
Through different seasons I remained
in wastelands walking long.
The Dreamscape he created
is where I now belong.
In dead zones and in Full dark
I watched the Blazing of no stars.
with tommy knocking Knees
I ran away from Demon cars.
And now I find that Dr Sleep
Has caught my dreams once more.
With Dragons eyes I stay awake
for Horror, fear and gore.
uncharted lands will fill my mind
and through them I will flit.
I’ll dance macarbly with the tale
to reach the end of IT


A while a go I wrote a poem about wednesday. since then i’ve written a few more days but never on the day they should be put on here. now it’s come round again Here’s Tuesday. A much misunderstood Day.


Nothing happens on a tuesday
We know this to be true.
It seems it’s just a non day
as we work the whole week through.
It’s not a day for slacking off
it’s not a day for tears.
it’s rare to end it in the pub
and knock back a few beers.
but then a realization hit
about this banal day.
it’s here we do most of our work
so it’s out of the way.
Say goodbye to Thursday drinks
if Tuesdays never done.
no cocktails on the beach for you
or basking in the sun.
So fill your diaries up my friends
as Tuesday’s are all fleeting.
Type up every long report
and go to every meeting.
Say hoorah for tuesdays
Don’t spend it in a funk.
Just work hard for this one day
and spend the weekend drunk

National Poetry Day

It’s National Poetry Day and I thought I’d do something a bit different. Instead of writing whatever I felt like I wrote a list of words that I associated with poetry and tried to fit them all in. there’s 15 in total.


National Poetry Day

recognise the feats of rhyme

that we have seen for all of time.
a poetry extravaganza
celebrating every stanza.
A limerick or short haiku,
the poets gift from him to you.
An ode or Ballard would be nice.
Erotic verse with lots of Spice.
I really must try to refrain
from using couplets once again.
I really must try to refrain
from using couplets once again.
Measure me a lyric line,
A simple quatrain would be fine.
the sonnets speed and meter’s pace,
the rhythm jumps from place to place.
A marvel of imagination
that needs no dry sophistication.
And I as Boy and I as man
Will Love it every way I can.



every wednesday I hear someone saying ” well at least we’re over the hump now”. I heard it today at 10:00 and wanted to say that technically until 12:00 it wasn’t even half way through the week. this is a little rhyme i came up with in a meeting to express how I feel about a much overrated day.


Mondays mornings cold and gray, and fridays bright and fun.

Tuesdays just another day and thursdays good and done.


But one day is above the rest in lying to my mind,

it tugs my hopeful heartstrings and leaves me feeling blind.


I’m talking about wednesday, that climb over the hump.

It may make many happy but it leaves me in a grump.


For people seem to think that they’ve turned the final bend

the week is nearly done and it’s time for the weekend.


But stop you silly idiots! there’s still two days to go.

and you can bet like all the rest they’ll go by nice and slow.


Wednesday is a halfway mark, a simple pointing sign.

it’s headed in the right way but it’s not the finish line.


So don’t get too excited, take your eyes from off the clock!

the weekend doesn’t start till friday…five o clock.

christmas fun

every year it’s the same. september starts and the country goes mad for christmas. each year i get more and more angry because it builds up the expectation for way too long. for me christmas prep starts on december 1st. this poem just shows a little of my frustration

the fairy lights twinkle, the carollers sing.

the children all dream of what Santa will bring.
oxford street shines and the country’s obsessed
but it’s only september so give it a rest.
the build up to christmas gets longer each year
and we strive and we struggle to stay in good cheer.
They’re playing the pogues when it’s just halloween
and gifts will arrive before bonfires are seen!
there’s presents to buy and there’s cards left to write.
holly to hang and there’s kids to delight.
puddings and cakes must be made in advance
while sleigh bells will jingle and reindeers will prance.
with four months of prep it had better be good,
when you’ve sung every carol you possibly could.
I’m not being a scrooge but you’re bored to, i bet.
so take down the tree love. it’s not christmas yet.

be with me

there wasn’t much thought to writing this one. it just flowed. I know it sounds a little bit prayer like but that wasn’t the reason for it. I just enjoyed writing it.

Show me the world in it’s brightest light
show me the morning in time
show me the dark can be whispered away
show me the mountain to climb
Tell me a tale as I strive through the hours
tell me the story I need
tell me a myth that my brain can believe
tell me that I can succeed
Teach me a word to sum it all up
teach me the key to it all
teach me a theory where all is explained
teach me to stand when I fall
Stay with me now through my darkest of days
stay with me when things are fine
stay with me please in the depths of the night
stay with me in the sunshine

Family dinner

I wrote this on holiday in scotland. funnily enough it works a lot better in a scots accent. thats my view anyway.


If home is where your heart is

then my home is right here

sitting round the table
with my family in good cheer
my pa will pour us all some wine
my ma will serve the food
my brother tells a funny joke
that many would find rude
my sister sits a drawing
for she does love to create
and i shall merely watch them
as for dinner we all wait
aye we always bicker
and there’s many cause to frown
but i know we’ll be happy
dining as the sun goes down
for here we’ll sit each evening
and bow our heads in prayer
there’s nowt to ease your worries
like food and family care


needing fuel for my last day at work in ages i went on a caffeine bender. the following poem was written on a large americano with an extra shot and two bottles of mountain dew. i am literally tripping balls right now so if it doesn’t make any sense i apologise


all i can see is a flash and a crash,
a mash and a dash
of thoughts that will clash
my actions are rash
as i splash through the trash
burning away at the vast caffeine cache.
it hasn’t been long and i’m still going strong
everythings right
and nothing is wrong
i hear bells are ringing
the ding and the dong
the throng sings a song
and its here i belong
I spring on a string and i feel like a king
I cling to a wing
as i swing with a zing
so bring me a ring
and i’ll ting on that thing
my actions are made without
soon in a heap i shall tumble to sleep
and the sheep they shall leap
as they look for bo peep
and all through my dreams
i shall creep through the deep
nothing else rhymes so these words i’ll keep
bleepity reapity steepity sweep

the muse

I got thinking about creativity today. about where ideas come from and the process of turning them into a reality. it may seem to be a little strange to create something about creativity but to that i say….Hi i’m will…we’ve obviously not met before


the muse

inside my brain the muse comes to life
soothing my mind from creative strife
Finally inspiration is here
my pen starts to scribble, the magic is near
From one lonely spark a fire starts to rage
as words from my head flow onto the page
Ideas are rolling, creation is now
I burn through it all never questioning how
slowly but surely a new place is born
a ghostly outline in a fantasy storm
my wishes and hopes pour into this dream
where the spires will shine and the towers will gleam
the real world is fine for the plain day to day
but sometimes it seems never ending and grey
my mind dreams of colours that shine in the night
when the artist in me can stand up and take flight.
so for now i shall walk through the streets of this land
while my mind wanders halls and palaces grand
my muse may desert me but she will return
for there’s dreams still to build
There’s ideas still to burn