Ode to Amuse A Muse
Dear Calliope, muse and faithful advisor,
and ancient goddess, a poet's treasure.
She guides my words, for hers are wiser
with perception far beyond all measure.
We paint images; a pen is our brush.
Crumbled pages lie all 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, lovely as a moonflower.
No vagabond muse, she's never wandered.
Nor a 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 that would make lovers sigh
when it is decreed beneath pale moonbeams.
More journeys than I, has Calliope traveled.
Her metaphors are gifts offered to me
when I'm lost for words and a titch unraveled.
How grateful I am for such loyalty.
Without her guidance I'd surely fall short
of any rightful 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 within my soul.
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