Mellifluous Murmurs

Escape

I hold a thick scrap of paper between my fingertips

I think visciously as my pen rests between my teeth 

confusion hits me hard when I start to furrow my eyebrows in pure defeat.

///

I pick at my fingernails 

I don't know what step to occur to next 

I try to make my own ideas 

but apparently I come up with my own sonnets.

///

Shakespeare should be proud

I am his long lost sister after all 

He opened up my treasure

I planted a tree that's sprouted onto one flower

It was mine. 

///

Poe was next 

He ignited my skill

He slathered my poetry onto his cake because it was too sweet; as the fondant of icing 

I thanked him but he vanished afront of my face

I smiled at the memory he kept embedded in the chambers of my mind. 

///

Pound, oh, Pound was last 

His beauty gave me the mind of an intelligent one 

He crammed my work to a masterpiece.

Yet he was an emblem of memory. 

/// 

I see the three legendary poets sitting on both my shoulders

sectioning themselves and positioned to their likings 

I shoo them away and smile at the retention

I have finally finished my sensation of triumph in form of stanzas and poetry.