Erato Poems

Ode to Erato

Ode to Erato

“Hear, here!” What’s this poppycock all about?
“Get rid of St. Valentine’s Day… you say, — I say naught!”
Brave Britannia, are we losing our faculties?
I’d give my life for God, King and country,
but to give up St. Valentine’s Day, “Preposterous!”

A night with Erato is an experience like no other.
Painfully erotic, overwhelming and barbaric,
or tenderly

Erato

I used to dwell in a desolate space
A grim and twisted world of cataclysm
Wrought by the echoes of my own disgrace

Back then, I was nothing but an empty shell
Who lived life as if it was destined for the deep
But that was before the cosmic spell

It was the rarest moment when the stars aligned
The eternal cosmos

Erato

Erato

Each of the nine Muses
Endeavor to inspire.
Erato, lyre in hand,
Engages with men's minds,
Elegantly with words ...
Each phoneme, each pattern
Encourages lyrics.

At the Feet of the Goddess

At the Feet of the Goddess
by Michael R. Burch

“What will you conceive in me?”—
I asked her. But she
only smiled.

“Naked, I bore your child
when the wolf wind howled,
when the cold moon scowled . . .
naked, and gladly.”

“What will become of me?”—
I asked her, as she
absently stroked my hand.

Centuries later, I understand:
she whispered—“I Am.”

Published by Romantics Quarterly

Erato, Muse of Love Poetry

Erato, muse of love poetry
Inspires all of us to tell our tale,
Of when that magic spark set us free,
And the loneliness began to fail.

Some poets write of love at first sight,
Some of a smoldering love that grew.
When both souls know the feeling is right
A kiss on the lips with passion anew.

The love of my life

Erato

Erato

Out of an ethereal mist her form –
round, soft edges shimmering, a milky

apparition, like the full moon on a foggy
July night. Myrtle and roses came first

in the aroma that took him to the shores 
of Tunisia and a Mediterranean breeze –

his mind wandered until she came full into view
and then his focus was secure…her beauty

filled

Erato Muse of Poetry

1.
Uninvited you come, oh Erato*, you muse of poetry, the 
Majority of the times,
Knocking at my soul’s door at any given moment
Insisting on letting you in, your message to deliver
Disregarding at what state my soul is and if she could 
With your request, comply

2.
Oh, Muse of poetry, when with my soul’s inspiration
You are flirting all

Erato

Erato left me
Alone—why did she go—where?
Too many poets

Erato Theory

a multiverse on my mind
I touch the leaves of spring
summer responds by jealousy

My Muse Erato

Whenever a Melancholy Moon,
Radiantly brimful, looms low,
And gilds the tops of the trees,
The hills, the flowing streams,
and languorously reclining lakes,
My Muse appears to me
from nowhere like a dream,
Like a flash of inspiration
to a muddled mind.

She glides towards me like
an elusive wreath of smoke
And gathers me in her
delicate arms like a silken robe,
Hovering around me
like the

Erato and Me

Why silence, Erato, old friend,
Is there a thought you wish to transcend

You call me a poet, how can that be
For my quill be a twig and parchment a tree

I paint of morning, my hopes lie ahead
My words unsure, I merely sense my tread

Yet, Erato, you say rhyme will give fire
Rendering visions with the brush of

O Sweet Erato

As I slumber
Deep in desirable dreams
She comes 
With lyre in hand 
Her song is purest poetry
Gifted by Apollo
And drawn by Zeus’ hand 
O’ sweet melody
She serenades my soul
Whispering verses
Still longing to be made manifest
Her fragrance compels me
To dream her beauty
And inspires greatness
In corners of minds
Only muses can occupy
Daintily she places myrtle
Around my bed
And rouses me

Erato the Goddess

Derived from "Eros" the Greek muse 
Bring me the words to form and infuse 
Your name is has been known as lovely
Shine on me privately  
Love of life 
Bring onto me nightlife 
Of erotic pleasure 
And poetry treasures 
From your Greek Gods 
And passionate lords 
I write the words 
That fly like the birds

Words From Erato

Of all the flowers
i met on the way
only your dainty bossom
showed me the court of day,

And that accounts 
for the harp today i blew
and of all smiles there are
only yours i found was true.

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