Denis Bruce Poet Rhyme

Blank Verse

When one of inspiration is shorn
And every poetic thought stillborn
When every glimmer of light disappears
And every proud conceit ends in tears

Should I to my unheeding Muses turn
And offer holocausts for them to  spurn?
Would Melpomene listen,Thalia heed
And grant help in my hour of need?

Why do they cast me so cruelly aside
In my own grim Hades to abide?
Prayers do I offer for this barren time
Wherein the empty page is branded crime.

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Poet Destroyer A December 28, 2013 at 12:07 PM Denis, very deep, and the rhyme flow was done well. I like this line, (poetic thought stillborn) .. Strong expressions and feelings you expressed so well. ..LINDA Denis Bruce December 28, 2013 at 12:13 PM Dear Linda, Thank you for your kind words. Perhaps you are my missing muse Erato.