Wednesday, March 14, 2012

To my favourite muse

Hello my little one
I see you again
but do you see me?
You write
and with what seems
like effortless ease
your elegant prose
spills out again to tease us,
to test your readers
and baffle their senses
as flower petals and dirt
are thrown in our faces
and every word
that pleases us
is accompanied
by one to negate
those very feelings.
You test us by revealing all,
but staying your hand,
keeping us wondering
and yet leaving us
helpless spectators
to something beautiful
as we agonise over every cut of the knife.

9 comments:

  1. Just chop right in OldEgg..I can loan you the metaphorical gardening gloves..sweep up the petals and soil and put them in the composter outside..not in...Jae

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  2. Hah! Ironic to me that Jae was your first commenter, because while reading your piece, I thought you were writing about her! Nice piece, Old Egg.

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  3. you got right to the heart of your dear muse old egg.I love this.

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  4. Beautiful tribute to your muse.

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  5. I can so relate to this... love it!

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  6. And sometimes she visits and sometimes she goes on a long vacation. Sigh. Flighty muse! I'm glad she visits you so regularly, but over on this side of the world she has been sleepy.

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  7. Such a great poem. I feel that way about my muse fairly often. Such a joy but also such a pain.

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  8. And aren't we writers masochists to so willingly pick up the penknife?

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