Tag Archives: muse
Disabused of Muses
Poetry, you dazzled my eye
teased me with unearthly visions;
got me too high.
Primed my soul to fly to heaven
then marooned me upon the earth
sixed for seven.
You called across celestial shores
glowing in empyrean colors
then shut your doors.
Lost in your amusing mazes
I followed fast your golden thread
through dark phases.
Muse-abused and undelivered
my heartstrings wavered, stalled, then stopped –
arrows quivered.
Poetry—you’ve cheated on me;
winked and flirted, then escorted
Philosophy!
Spare me further cantos, curses,
keep your holy delirium,
unhinged verses…
On second thought, oh Lady cruel—
humiliate me – lead me on.
(I’m still your fool.)
Dominatrix, queen of the word
for you I’ll suffer untold shame.
I’m undeterred.
IMAGE CREDIT: 3bp.blogspot.com
[Roxy Music album cover: For Your Pleasure 1973]
PROMPT 11: write a poem that addresses itself or some aspect of its self
My Muse Don’t Play
Breaking Poetry News Update !!!
URGENT NEWS for my 5 regular readers:
I am guilty of taking the easy way out of poetry-blogging.
Yes, lyrical brothers and sisters, I have committed online crimes. I have posted any random video found to be amusing or relevant instead of being TRUE to my VERSE.
BitChutes and YouTubes have been impulsively embedded here at ConnectHook, instead of opening the splendorous portals of Poetry for my loyal readers to enter. I have not self-promoted sufficiently. Instead, I have veered off into culture warring, esthetic/political provocation, and endless agit-prop. Oh sweet muse, long suffering mentor, matrix and moonbeam-milker, FORGIVE ME. Withdraw not the sweet rivulets and gushing springs of your lyric inspiration. Pour out upon my readers, from the crystal pitcher of your pure poetic sources, a life-giving stream of living waters. Cast out the demons of boring modernist free-verse and incoherent identity-politics drivel. Long-suffering muse of mine, restore us one and all back to POETRY— the only reason to live and to love, the only antidote to an unfunny clownworld hell-bent on self-destruction. Remember not my poetic sins, oh faithful lover of my soul— be merciful unto me, dear lady of lyrical laughter and light.
SPRAY THEM with poetry oh muse;
MOW them DOWN with the Gatling-gun of your golden graces.
CONNECT/HOOK 