Looking For Inspiration
My Muse has gone.
Why has she me left?
'Tis not that I am desolate nor wan
But there is no doubt of her I am bereft.
Struggle and strive as I may,
I can summon neither image nor theme.
It must be that I have lost my way.
Let this offering serve as my silent scream!
Whither has she fled
And where does she hide?
Was it something I left unsaid?
Now I feel so empty inside.
In her has been my one and only consolation,
Yet here do I plough a barren furrow
With little or no hope of any propagation.
If only she would return tomorrow!
This I do not wish to be my swansong,
Rather that my Muse may be dormant like Lazarus
Whose voice like the Phoenix will arise ere too long.
Utinam exigam monumentum aere perennius!
Copyright © Denis Bruce | Year Posted 2007
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