Of jaded muses and digital distractions - POTW

The allure of mused poems, No longer visits this nonchalant psyche. It trickles now, once a roaring torrent Now a lazy stream Am like a desultory jaded heaven Where starry jewels once decked the night, But are now drossy shadowy blackholes, And sparks and dreams, Are ripped in the accretion disc. No longer avid, but seeking meaning in the mundane. No longer enraptured by the she said, he said, And all that jazz, no iota of care; for trifling muses, Their short goodbyes or critique, no not one, Their infighting and bad blood, no longer, No nuts to crack, nor rain to flush, no iota of care. It was never about who is better, Neither has it been nor will it ever be, About any Magnum Opus. Like doors closing and skies descending, Each visiting muse devoid of ardor, Oblivious to the yawning dawn, Or the scent of sprouting posies. Jaded, without allure or sheen And devoid of all its lustre. Maybe one day soon a spark will reignite And reanimate this frenetic mused madness But until then... I remain adrift in this sea of trivialities, Worrying about trifling stuff Like ad blockers and AI opinions And irked... By their emasculating knowledge

Poem Of The Week(POTW) -9/15/2024 To 9/21/2024