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Poet In Recluse - Reposted

Originally posted in 2017.
I relinquish my pen before the storm of her tears falling upon my bare arm her gentle whispering breathed in my ear Muse of mine, adieu to your wit and charm With piqued reasons I have come to deduce It's time to say fond farewell to my muse She should seek a new poet and lay claim for my words have grown utterly abstruse Spare me sullen eyes, from cries in refrain I shall not weep in sadness nor disdain Bitterness does not become a recluse My poet's heart weakens, I dare not feign Time's drawn the shades in darkness of night No candle flame shall glimmer enough light in which I may be tempted before morn to doubt seclusion and attempt to write Cloistered without pen, I shall ever be From thinking in rhyme I shall be set free Poems half written on bits of scrap paper I shall lock away and then toss the key My hand has retired, this last poem now penned No more idyll thoughts of mind will transcend Bereft of rhymes and abandoned of verse This poet knows her time has reached an end Ink no longer flows through my tunneled veins Expressed emotions in poetry wanes And when interred, on my stone I shall read, "Reclusive poet" over my remains

Copyright © | Year Posted 2021




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