Con pluma en mano
The Muse wants your meat
she wants you heart and soul on a platter
over and again every day
she cares not if you're driving or working or trying to sleep
she strikes on her own time in her own moments
she often sends little trinkets
shiny junk for journals to collect
and if you don't, if you refuse these gifts
she takes away your meat
takes the big thoughts little by little
striking indifferent matches to
ideas before they become words
summoning her only makes her grin
but she'll pounce when least expected
insisting words, sounds and silences
creating the compulsion of pen on paper
or fingers on keys striking mercilessly
till her tide abates and she's appeased
she has favorite places
spots to sit that tend to host her visits
she likes the outdoors
and while she can't be commanded into presence
she takes kindly to those
who make special arrangements for her
who honor her with simple ritual
and wait, patiently open
with pen in hand
amen. ha a delightful personification of the muse...mine she can be fickle and boy if i dont treat her right she plays hide and seek...ha...smiles.
ReplyDeleteThank you. I think she hides on us all. It's such a funny relationship, how we lust after her and she always seems just out of sight, till we realize we've been writing like mad for days and no wonder we're so happy.
ReplyDeleteha - very nice...my muse likes the outdoors as well..most poets seem to have a love/hate relationship with their fickle muse... thanks for introducing us to yours..smiles
ReplyDeleteMy muse does her own thing on her time as well. Great write.
ReplyDeleteThank you both for visiting! It's a funny relationship, to be sure!
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