The Poet's Realm

When the ghost of Mister Poe's raven whispered in my ear, I stepped into the realm of poetic tales. Pushing my way past the clouds of dust and cobwebs in the vestibule of consciousness, I proceeded down the Tunnel of Versification and through a labyrinth of deliciously dark dreamscapes, where I encountered the serpent of writing addiction. The beast sank its fangs into my flesh, and a ravenous passion for words started coursing through my veins.

Capturing observations in my trusty notebook, I continued to wander through the jangled Maze of Motivation. Word by word, scene by scene, those impressions etched themselves into my psyche, until a beacon of darkness led me to the conclusion that I could actually create such phantasmagoria myself.

The worrisome witches of punctuation and grumbling goblins of grammar keep throwing slippery slabs of irrational concern in my path, but I persist under the auspices of the Creative License, vested in me through the authority of the nine Muses.

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