Muse of My Soul
My muse opens my eyes to starlight, when in darkness I would cower.
~by poet
My dear muse is a faithful advisor
An ancient spirit, a writing treasure.
She guides my words, for hers are much wiser
with perception far beyond all measure.
We paint images; a pen is our brush.
Crumbled pages lie about in the den
where we huddle in thought, hour after hour.
She insists life shouldn't be lived in a rush
and smelling roses will heighten my Zen.
My muse is inspiring, a moonflower.
No vagabond muse, she's never wandered.
Nor stargazer, scanning constellations.
I always praise her for time not squandered
and cannot blame her for my frustrations
when I become distracted in mid thought.
Asleep and drifting in the midnight sky,
she fills my head with rhapsodies in dreams.
Romantic notions whispered to my heart ~
Lines for a sonnet to make readers sigh
when love is decreed beneath pale moonbeams.
More journeys than I, has my muse traveled.
Her metaphors are gifts offered to me
when I'm lost for words, a bit unraveled.
How grateful I am for her loyalty.
Without her guidance I'd surely fall short
of any claim of poetic success.
Somewhat feisty, yet whimsically droll,
urging me to write a mirthful retort.
Skillfully she directs me with finesse,
this glorious muse living in my soul.
May 25, 2022
Form O - Ode Contest
Sponsor - Constance LaFrance
Theme - Person (although a muse, real to me)
Copyright © Jenna Logan | Year Posted 2022
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