Becoming The Muse

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Of Spaghetti Thoughts

What do I do,
with this spaghetti of thoughts,
swirling around,
inside my head?
Like uninvited guests
intruding in on my mind,
crowding up my space,
keeping me up at night.
Maybe I’ll write some poetry
and you’ll call it pretty.

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Responses to “Of Spaghetti Thoughts”

  1. Matt avatar
    Matt

    I’ll call it spagetti

    Reply
  2. Bookstooge avatar
    Bookstooge

    But what about when it’s rotten spaghetti, or moldy? Like a rotting corpse? Do you even dare express thoughts like that?

    Reply
  3. Claire 'Word by Word' avatar
    Claire ‘Word by Word’

    Everything can be a poem, like straightening the spaghetti, then reshaping it. Pretty.

    Reply
    1. Beaton avatar
      Beaton

      🍝
      ~B

      Reply

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