My Muse wears no mask

Poetry Original Works - Post Your Poems
1

Mark is discussing creativity over in the essays section and he mentioned Muses…

Here’s my little muse from Napo four years ago. Usually she’s just a whisper in my ear, but sometimes, as in this poem, I visualise her with vivid three dimensional clarity. Oddly enough she’s never had a name to pin her down.

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Napo 4 - 2020

My Muse wears no mask

My Muse dropped by to see how things were.
A little six inch tall redhead,
who has attitude with a capital ‘A’.
Some of you have met her before.

Sat on top centre of my monitor,
swinging her legs.
Combing her long hair
like a mermaid prophesying disaster.

“Budge over beyond the margins will you?
Just so I can see the text.”
She jumped up,
ran nimbly across the top edge,
perched again on the extreme right.

“What are you doing up there anyway?”
She usually sits in my shirt pocket,
or on one shoulder to whisper in my ear.

“I’m social distancing,
But I can’t desert you.
Not at a time like this.”

“No mask?” I asked, intrigued by this

“No way. Anyway, I don’t need one.
I’m not really in your world, am I?”

“You have a point.”

“I always have.” She smiled.
“Your other characters are unmasked too.”

“You mean their identities have been exposed?”

She sighed, shook her head

“Ah, the eternal pedant.
Wandering like a bemused child
in the sweet shop of etymology.
Uncertain how to spend your money.
You’re obviously healthy enough.”

She stood up, posed like a trapeze artiste
then dived effortlessly and precisely
into my shirt pocket.

Emerged with a scowl, rubbing her head,
eyes blazing. Classic redhead :wink:

"Two things, Big Man.

"What’s your phone doing in my pocket?
And,…"She wagged her finger
like a chiding school mistress.
"…How long since you changed your shirt?
I expect a certain standard from you,
so don’t let me down again.

“And…” Leaping back to the monitor
as I ripped off my shirt,
red faced with shame,
“Don’t put me through the bloody machine.
There’s no Muse setting.”

Gyppo

2

:grinning: Very witty. Intriguing muse stuff. I have a beautiful muse in human female form, who does inspire me, and not just with writing, a good friend for many years now. However, my erstwhile guru (also female) told me creatives should never sleep with their muses and cited Picasso’s antics with women as an example. Pity - but then I could always declassify myself as a creative.

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That’s a fun write, Gyppo.
I think Picasso would have liked your six inch Muse, he allegedly liked ‘small’ girls :nauseated_face:
I assume what you all call ‘Muse’ is just a term for random inspiration? I ask this genuinely as an Aphant who’s completely mind-blind.

4

You raise an interesting point, Colm. Inspiration comes in many forms, but mine is often triggered by something visual, (plants pushing up through tarmac or concrete as an example),or an overheard and isolated phrase heard in the street, or snatched from the lyrics of a song.

My little six inch Muse is a miniature visualisation of a feisty little five foot redhead I dreamed up one year for the NANO novel in a month challenge. Sam(antha), a female motorcycle builder and restorer, with a degree in mechanical engineering, who had grown up in her Dad’s workshop. Had a shiny and clean ball bearing race as a teething ring :wink: Watched him work from a triangular playpen in one corner of his workshop, after her Mum died. had her nappy changed on the ‘clean bench’, set aside for electrical work.

Like all the best characters she arrived unannounced and ready to share her tale with me.

They all talk to me. Yes, I ‘hear voices’ :wink: Those without a distinctive voice usually fade away again fairly soon.

Why Sam in particular transformed into my Muse, as opposed to any other of my characters I don’t know. I’m wary of lifting the lid on some corners of my writer’s psychology in case I interfere with something which works so well,

If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

Over the years I’ve noticed that many of my female ‘leads’ are short and capable little women, although I will occasionally deliberately write ‘against type’. A tall willowy blonde, or lofty and chunky Gypsy lass. This keeps your mind flexible…

To a certain extent I can summon the little muse at will, and get an ‘outside view’ on an idea which is puzzling or eluding me. People assume all writers are a bit mad, and I’m sure many of us have something of a split personality. We can be our characters for a while. But we can, generally, turn the other side back off when we need to. If we can’t, that’s the road to madness.

Gyppo