Listen to poem:
A Poets Muse Lost
A POET’S MUSE LOST
The poet ponders upon, his lost muse
But with his pen, on her, he did abuse
As he looks upon the pen, with forlorn
And at the door of his muse long gone
Why did he afflict, such so cruel words
That slashed her heart with such hurts
Whilst expecting her love to still stand
That kitchen bare, now left unmanned
Your bed empty, it now lies in disarray
In her mind, your words still do weigh
One moment’s anger his words let slip
You un-knowledgeable, least equipped
Where the forlorn pen, prepares to ink
It reminds you, before you write, think
A life time left now, in which to repent
Writing of a lost love your time’s spent
A pain upon her, only yourself afflicted
As that this pain, was wholly predicted
So, we can read the sorrow, you as felt
That pain you deliberately, on her dealt
Indiana Shaw . . . -_-
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