I sit encircled, poets round,
I kneel before them on the ground
My beauty’s bare for all to see
I’m Aphrodite! Worship me!
I am their muse, I crave their ink,
Their scribbling’s my secret kink.
That I inspire them makes me proud
(I love to do it in a crowd)
Some are boisterous, some are shy,
I meet them all with a lustful eye,
Some work silently, some enthuse,
All glorify their waiting muse
When inspiration comes at last
The verses pour forth thick and fast
Soon my skin is splashed with rhyme
And other poets get in line
Their words excite me, drive me wild,
(Like giving ice cream to a child)
I sit, exulting, poets round
Until I have in pleasure drowned.