Muses Poems - Poems about Muses

Never to discover the limits of soul Such is the depth of its station The nature of being not what’s distilled But what’s left — from evaporation (Septa R5: March, 2025) ...

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NOSSIS There is nothing sweeter than love. All other delights are secondary. Thus, I spit out even honey. This is what Gnossis says: Whomever Aphrodite does not love, Is bereft of her roses. —Nossis translation by Michael R. Burch Most reverend Hera, the oft-descending from heaven, attend your Lacinian shrine fragrant with incense and there receive the linen mantle your noble child Nossis, daughter of Theophilis...

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This is for my muse It’s her thoughts I use If in doubt, I’ll call her out When we disagree. After all she’s me And I’m glad that she’s about. Then she’ll go away On her holiday So, I’ll wait until she’s back Ask her what to write She is always right My muse’s words never lack. ...

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When I begin to draw Is it me or someone else? I do not know where these ideas originate. One minute I have a blank canvas. Half hour later I have created a village Pirate queen, gnomes, faeries, goblins, Mushroom houses, butterflies, lilies and such When I begin to write I also doubt these words are my own. There is an entity utilizing my...

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Sappho Translations XV by Michael R. Burch Gaia, rainbow-crowned, garbs herself in myriad hues. (168c) We ran like fawns from the symposium: me, Cleis and reckless Gongyla. (168d) Destiny is from the Muses, / and thus I was destined to leave him / to become / Sappho, Mistress of Song. (168e,f) Unknowing of evil, I was pure innocence. (171) Eros,...

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Sappho Translations VIII by Michael R. Burch Sappho, fragment 68 translation by Michael R. Burch That was then, this is now! In those days my maidenhead was in full bloom, then you … Sappho, fragment 135 translation by Michael R. Burch Golden Persuasion, Aphrodite's daughter, how you deceive mortals! Sappho, fragment 88 translation by Michael R. Burch Why, Procne, delicate swallow, daughter of Pandion, why do you weary me...

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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...

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"The Muses" Allusions camouflaged confessions I have read them all, each page envelopes emptied turned inside out pockets of Poésies they sprinkle their messages like confetti, minds popping like corks, frothy and overflowing some kind celebration cupped and bled stories of fairy-flossed confection the sugar compote cooked in the head before dreams are laid and set I have read them all envelopes emptied inside out Allusions all...

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the untimely measures gathered beneath solid structure as hands fold the numeral gestures gravely carved throughout the roman empire while the daintiness of quiet muse's reciting playful tunes through a calming poetic mannerism while surrounding hidden notes while mastering an illuminating symphony of words at times within a dimly lit sphere of complete solitude ravishing...

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How I wish readers miss me... It has now been one year since he died, What emptiness the poetic world feels! His genius as days pass the more reveals, His memories we hope would new pens guide And his honest concern would be well billed, Many a young mind was inspired by him, All wonder-stuck on...

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We may need a rest left here right now said the Muse to his Warrior and her Sage. In compliant spirit, Sage feels a rest not not significant in music's octaved stories of wealthy deep cultured enlightening revolutions Anticipating a Warrior's peaceful relationship between sound of tears and silence anticipating fears of dwindling years Resting nonverbal and arresting verbal Muse full and empty nonviolent communionations resonant +/- Sage of time-squared Light, resilient 1/0 Warrior of...

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The seventh kingdom sings that he was a drop of gold Who fell from the sky of golden sunlight to earth so cold Dragons brought that drop to their caves thousands of years old It grew into a gold child who shone for all to behold A white dove baptised him, and brought him back...

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Music especially sacred music feels round Not such clear lines prescribing desecrating marches needing to move somewhere noting something speaking against someone in StraightWhite privileged time Right/Left balancing divas sometimes sing in resonant rounds, round and round in circling spirals never-ending spectral ribbons eventually blending communion, emphatically good-spirited and not dogmatically ill-natured. So, to liberated lovers lusting Left toward green cooperative choices And, to conservative clingers leaning Right toward red competitive voices If you must shout to overcome dissent If you can't sing and,...

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(Do you know what’s worth fighting for? There’s no point starting this strife. I need to get down to the core, We both know who’s better.) Happy days! You finally admit, Green Day is both our favourite! I will never agree with my foe, Alec Benjamin Rules, we both know! Green Day won’t let me...

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I used to scoff at the thought of Greek nymphs inspiring artists, but those nine gals, especially Calliope and Erato blees em, have moved right in. They’re a great help around the house. I have put them to work cleaning, tidying, and doing the dishes. I.C.E. raided my house the other day wanting to know if I employed illegal aliens. The girls, forewarned, hid themselves in...

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