Muse

a sonnet about the writer's muse

Sonnet: Muse

I honestly do not know who you are, elusive muse.

So many poets, writers, and painters have pined

for you. Using any excuse of love lost to lose

you and carry on heartbroken, bruised, and blind.

 

Your eyes, some have said, are like stars glistening,

diamonds on black velvet. They say your skin is sweet

like the tender flesh of fruit, that listening

to your voice and the delicious deceit

 

of your love can satiate and sustain

any starving artist. I regret

I cannot love a shadow, contour, or feign

grand metaphors to immortalize a silhouette

 

above streetlights dawning on city sounds.

I’ll watch and wait until they dwindle down.

Author's Note

obviously not iambic pentameter... don't kill me.

Reviews

[Naomi Montana Walsh]

emotion and thought are things we can not see..and so is the muse..you just know it when it is there .
My muse is not always beautiful and fairy like..nor does it always use iambic pentameter, but this poem works well without it..

[Chellie]

I really liked it, and I don't usually like poetry. From the very first line I was drawn in. Great job.

[LisetteCanWrite!]

Beautifully done.. and well understood.. that no one human should be immortalized nor drown in their own dream! A tribute to a muse..as well as a realistic view.. should we take stake in our beating desires being placed in one soul.. when there is much light to be seen in so many others as well.. if you look for it! I loved the cry and yearning felt whereby you would like to have this belief in this muse but shun it away:

of your love can satiate and sustain any starving artist. I regretI cannot love a shadow, contour, or feign grand metaphors to immortalize a silhouette

Loved the feel and flow of this.. such high love.. to be lifted into such a spotlight .. could be destroyed by the greed in that muse's own heart.. as it is human to want to aspire.. I choose myself to sit in those shadows and bring light to one's struggling at the bottom and those aspiring to be something but just feel special being a person with feelings. Much of my work shall remain in poetry.. most will not be read until after my dying day.. for I am no saint.. just human.. with no wish to become immortal.. just touch a few hearts for all time. One of my great muses was a musician.. who has fallen and gotten up more than once in a spotlight.. bringing me hope with some reality .. his lyrics touch all that hear them.. filling them with hope, desires and despair in that which embraces the truth of humanity. Thank you so much for sharing!