fine lady, writer's mistress muse

my love, my life, my inspiration, 

my mistress lover, catalyst queen of insight

upon whose breast of wisdom i suckle

to you who provide me with streams of thought and knowledge

by which to write when i am hungry 

to transcend feelings 

into stone, to silver, to ivory 

or to gold and even rust

my muse, my moniker of light and truth

you give me courage to empart, to share the hidden, 

my sacred pearls which hide my shame

from those who would dare trample 

those ruby pomegranate cells,

whose nectar pure, distilled nectar filled

buds of tender gems of my love with yours blended

your sweet juice of ripened fruit

you are my writer's muse

matured through years of my life's fruition

by both its pains and joys, 

mainly pain and far inbetween, 

to tomorrow and forever

for such is squeezed,

that product called experience 

lived upon this torrid earth

my muse,

my royal lady,

you lull me with your voice sublime, 

its tenor's stroke, soft as lulliby and tender

it's flutter, nuanced tone 

in my relaxed and pensive ear,

my automated script ensues; it waxes great

i stare upon it in retrospective awe,

as if written by an alien hand,

fed by a mystery source not mine

my muse, 

infinite celestial height unfathomable, 

inexhaustible fountain 

from whose source; its gates open at your command

my muse, my love, you hold a magic vase

its shape like your own smooth curves of lovely femine form

i hold you in my breath,

my hand upon your words like seductive breasts 

that feed me words to eat and write

my muse, my lamp by night

my star by day

my darling inspiration

you cleanse by fire 

to melt the dross that causes at times my pen to fail

for passion make my soul to write

by your touch, my muse

your fidelity, your encouragement of memory mine

you bring me youth recalled

the plagues with panicked fears that crossed my sordid sights, 

those days near death prevailed,

made loneliness my friend,

who then taught me deep introspection

an alchemy yours mixed with curiosity for you

to play in fields of words

i yearn for more

to learn more of you

to master more

a greater hold, a tighter grip of what there is to see 

with all my senses, God given, entrusted to you, to me

to command this gift, this talent called authorship

to go deeper yet, a further greater plunge immersed

into your heart, your soul, your inner core, my mistress muse

lead me, weave me into the fabric folds of your clever shades and hues 

of the art of handling to mastery skills

the words that make the readers' minds to dance with mine,

is my muse, my imagination's journey, shared,

that others walk, fly and dream upon with us

my gift, my friend, 

my libido inspiration muse i give

impossible it is to look away from your idea flash epiphanies

stimuli of topic, prose of genre, poetic line

living streams of words and life itself and death defined

to make all meaning real

i borrow from your unction

my urge, my craft, 

my spill upon your womb

our fruit, our words' ambition's work 

like silken ribbon roads 

along splendid threads of consciousness that carry all away