Posting this in reply to Gyppo’s, “My Muse wears no Mask”
My mistress is a fickle bitch
who sleeps unmoved by prod or plea
then turns and teases with a kiss
just to turn again from me.
I try to win her with a song,
the composition of my heart,
my tune proves dull, my words lack art
and she cares not to sing along.
She cares not to sing along
lets slip a sigh both long and deep
and I frustrated face the wall
deprived now of both song and sleep.
Very nice, Marc-- like the bounce of the cadence. I’ll post my most recent Muse poem. You guys wanna do a Muse-Poem Thread somewhere? Challenge, perhaps?
This is a pleasant and amusing take on the muse. Not a theme that ever spoke to me I must say - well maybe i don’t but I am doing it anyway. Never really figured who she was, where she came and why she needed to exist. Such is life I suppose
“fickle bitch” - I love it! This puts a spring in my step this morning. Not sure how that will translate to my writing, but I’ll take a springy step on a brisk (is it still Fall??) day!