Short Muses Poems
Short Muses Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Muses by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Muses by length and keyword.
Sadness interferes with life
In me it muses
I feel the power of hurt
And it squeezes out
Saddened heartlessness
Russell Sivey
Delighta did not know whose instructions to take.
Hummingbird in her left ear or monarch in her right?
She picked up a book of faerie spells and ignored them away.
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)
Muses, Come!
The poetess sits in deep despair.
Ah, Muses come, she cries!
Caress my tear drenched hair.
So that to my vacuous head
be brought.
Sunshine and mystical,loving
thought.
Panagiota Romios
3/3/2019
“she mused
while fondly touching his chair
his scent lingers”
death
riptides
my love gone
why was he first
love
ills
senile
my promise
sent home to wait
love
Sep 2011 Charles Henderson
for Nettes Lantern contest
Kings drained the goblet
silver and pearlescent.
A sweet odour drifted
coiling heavenward
to feathered cloud spires
where ancient muses chanted
in tongues of mystery
and offered blessed words
inscribed on filigree parchment
engraved with magic images
worthy of few mortals.
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.
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.
Fret Not, I won't take thy places
For thou art my guide through life's various phases.
I may be growing in lyrical might but Nay!
I cannot take thy influences away.
You blessed me upon my birth,
And in Thy waters of lyrics I took my bath.
Fret Not Ye Muses that strengthen my pen,
So roars the lion from his den.
Verses flow from my brain like sudden zingers
While “Inventions” by Bach flow through my fingers
Sometimes one Muse will trample the Muse of the other
Sometimes, I go for a walk before I succumb to the smother.
SECOND PLACE WINNER
Written 3/14/2021
For "Reveal Your Other Muse" Contest
Sponsored by Margarita Lillico
My summertime Muses are wearing the jolly
Still decking “the halls with boughs of holly,”
Eschewing everything droll and melancholy
Chanting a happy tune from “Hello, Dolley.”
Helping me deal with a rambunctious collie
Singing ad alta voce “Good Golly, Miss Mollie,”
As I sink to dabble in foolish, but hilarious, folly.
written June 16. 2021
There are so many pearls I treasure,
They are memories of moments so precious;
Past and present: some sweet, some bitter,
Scattered in my mind: a deep ocean;
These pearls, each special, I hold dear,
To create jewels of muses I share
To the mind that connects and reflects!
49Er Poetry Contest
Date: 10/22/2020
Sponsor: Anthony Biaanco
Don’t call us Babes, such nonsense just confuses
We’re equals standing side by side with men
If you must, then coin us Corbyn’s Muses
Inspiring hearts and minds with voice and pen
We’ve got here through integrity and toil
Intelligence and knowledge of the game
We’ll labour endlessly for British soil
Don’t denigrate us with a silly name
by Gail
Great blessing with faith, God fuses,
Grace in my heart, He infuses,
Thanks and praises, soul profuses,
As His vessel, me He uses,
His love, He never refuses,
Turn from sin, it sure confuses,
Leave away all your excuses,
He will save from all abuses,
Goodness to all, He diffuses,
God's light through heaven suffuses.
My imagination gloats in the sun
My muses come forth, I have more than one.
Trixie, their director, lands on her bun.
Other muses titter, thinking it is fun.
They do not know the routine of this almost Hun.
I try to warn them, but their laughing is not done.
When Trixie gets up I yell to them “BETTER RUN!”
They get it and scatter running out toward the sun.
milieu of a scholar
magnificent goddess
marked by knowledge and art
music comes from within
mothers of creation
makers of excellence
muses of the old world
AND MUSES:
Upright standing on far, distant shores
Doth it be my old friend there
Over the sea?
Standing quietly grown out of books I write
Do they find any favor in your one eyed sight?
They that condemned me and laughed
With devouring looks
Because you never admired my books.
Oh I like you, sweet side seen
Hidden to others, yet only for me.
With heavy hands and muses.
©dedhedpoet 2015
Muses murals,
painted on the walls of my
mind-corridors,
inspire.
It is her canvas,
her personal museum;
an expanse of illustrated
adventures, thoughts, feelings,
ideas and emotions, all in the
catalogue of my mind.
She never rests, it seems;
she channels unceasingly;
creations from the Source
of all things.
Her work is her paradise;
to me, it’s the nourishment
I continually crave.
I am on this little enthusiastic theme today
It has come into my mind, and it is here to play.
I can tell it will not release me until it’s full out gray
And it has been vibrant, red-orange since the break of day.
Come on Trixie, I say to my overactive, excited muse
Are these poems even my own well-thought out views?
We laugh together then my personalities and me.
Because on poetry themes we truthfully seldom agree.
The words are dazzling, razzling, ripping and roaring.
I cannot tear them out of my mind fast enough.
They are chastising, criticizing, laughing and staring.
Some days my muses are rowdy, rough and tough.
Can you give me a second to go to the bathroom? I beg.
When I come back in a few seconds, there is no hope.
Hilarious joke! Says my persnickety muse name of Peg.
Why do we waste time trying to give ideas to this little dope?
He created an ethereal fantastical world.
The rest of the artist could scarcely fathom it.
This artist’s imagination unleashed climbed mountains.
He incorporated wildly exotic ideas, no one else had.
Artists all over the universe travelled to see his works.
Many stopped painting; others stood in awe for hours.
Too overcome by this artist’s genius and imagination to speak.
No one realized his muses were Michelangelo and Einstein.
Status impending
Shelter unknown
Feelings unrelenting
Receiver resending
Willful rain is shedding
Dripping casual moments
Auspicious declarations
Yesterday's sunrise is long set
Seeking subtleties
Grazing palms and heartbeats
You drift by easily
I'm catching fragments left
Faulty footing
Lawns of glass
Cutting courtesy
Trimming liquid admissions
Orchestrate fireworks
Ballet of bright lights
Choreograph trajectories
Symphony of our lives
Red-blooded moon
We drink its honey
It’s out of boon
The nightmare’s coming.
We cannot sail
The gardens faded
Poets will fail
And love is jaded.
The blind chance
leads in the nowhere
The cold changes suns
And all is over.
I took a whip
Oh, poet’s honey!
The muses weep
And it is funny.
They say find peace
And don’t be angry
They’re on their knees
And they are hungry.
Friends left me soon,
Because of money
Red-blooded moon
I drink its honey.
My muse sighs and leaves me unwell
and cuckolds me like faithless love
as if she's ne'er my god or belle,
afflatus or creative breath
who came from the summits above
to save me from poetic death!
"Why go, O Calliope!?" I yell;
her leaving brings about such woe
and inexpressible sorrow
that's too profound, too deep to tell:
I pray to Zeus I'll never know
this Melancholia of hell!
My muse sighs and takes leave of me,—
I yell, "Why go, O Calliope!?
In the still of the night, when the Muses speak,
What a wondrous thing to hear--
That magical sound of the siren's call
Falling upon your mind's eager ear.
Those sweet ladies wait at the midnight gate,
With their golden harps to play.
But the creative wind is Insomnia's friend,
It will blow your slumber away.
Next morning, the sighs, yawns, and red eyes--
The price of the sleep a fool loses,
But what can I say? It's a small price to pay
For a wild night out with the Muses.
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