The Blank Page

When in the absence of distraction
I’m drawn to writing’s strange attraction
The blank page beckons and I answer
I’m mesmerised by my entrancer

I need no hard-thought-out description
Of where to go with my inscription
No supervisor holds a stake
In anything my words might make

My working outline’s in my head
My muse will supervise instead
She knows about my time restriction
But also knows my deep conviction

For when she calls me to her den
I’m ready with my writer’s pen
With careful thought I come to know
To whom she wants these words to go
Considering then, what mood she’s in
I choose a voice to say them in

She drives me till her words are done
Her work is finished - mine begun
My muse’s audience is just me
But what of my strange poetry?

Zannie 2006