Missing: Muse
What has happened to my muse?
It's not an easy thing to lose
Yet, it seems that I've misplaced it
Or, perhaps, I just erased it
In some absent-minded funk
(Lordy knows, I'm never drunk)
Maybe it's just up my sleeve
Waiting for a love's reprieve
Or stuffed deep inside a pocket
Hoping hopes a dream will rock it
Or perhaps behind the couch
Intent to end my writing slouch
Lost in darkness 'neath my bed
(A metaphor for "in my head")
Drifting on a spring-tide mistral
Or poised for ruin, in a pistol
Gossamer as an angel's wing
Or ebbing life, as sirens sing
Dancing on a moonlit sea
Bound for harbors, heavenly
In the grasp of horrors, dim
A last endeavor, chances, slim
Perhaps it's waiting just inside
The smile of a blushing bride
Or in the twisted roots of trees
A thousand angry honey bees
Framed like all the grandest art
Or served on silver, a' la carte
The promise of a mustard seed
Or in the depths of evil greed
The fevered itch of aged scars
Hot like dust, among the stars
See, that's the beauty of a muse
It hides inside whate'er we choose
Imagination sews its seam -
Bound only by how deep we dream
So, it was hiding, from the start
Within the chambers of my heart
And if your muse is missing, too
I'm sure that's where it waits ...
For YOU!
Written on May 10, 2020
Submitted on June 18, 2020
To the "Your Fave Poem 2020 Not Written For A Contest" Poetry Contest
John Hamilton, Judge & Sponsor.
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