Dearest Muse, my Inspiration,
Gone, are you, from my imagination.
Fled my arm's open embrace
spit your venom upon my face
left in a frothy wake
of Fury and Grace
I, the Abandoned
the Assaulted, the crazed
cry out for your return
But your Spirit heeds no warning
ignores my every plea, I live
in the Agony of your Scorning
Can we not reconcile?
Undefined by our differences
(You're ethereal presence,
my mundane existence)
Yet, the same are we in Joy
created by the Pen
the Paper, and the worlds we write in
Alas, I have run out of your Elixir..
Until we meet again,
| Beautiful! As we have chatted about before, writing about writer's block sometimes cures writer's block.|
This piece seems dark...as if without the inspiration to write could cause the end of worlds. I guess, in a way, not being able to create can end worlds...the worlds that might have been conjured with pen & paper.
I liked the soft rhyming - or what I would call soft rhyming (not every verse). The words chosen are spot on, taking me to a place where written words and imagination can go...
Take a look at my poem "The Muse"...while not similar to your piece, it does talk to writer's block (but in a different way).
|| Posted on 2018-02-05 00:00:00 | by krs3332003 | [ Reply to This ] |