Lifting the Muse

 

lifting the muse

 

writing into crowless morning

something I have seldom done

& only inappropriately so,

suddenly swept away by rolling stones

like unforseen rushing doors

opening to vast expanse of highway

 

rocked by an amazing concoction

like coke & dope

poetry spills from your lips like

a wet stone or pearl you picked

by the lake where we eloped

but no longer together leaving shine

on the heart of your mouth -

       hope

 

that yearns for the river of my arms

around you. angers the tears

you refused to shed, suckling for breath

sobbing back,  touch sudden cold as queer.

this opens secrets, does it not?

channelling rain, bees come near.

 

this morning

you let me lift your muse.

your veil running down my spine

to the dark shoals between my blades,

bitters the honey of my crime, my heart

like a deck of hearts, eyes on my thigh like hurricanes.

godless sex lifts this pen, while you sleep,

not this paper, not this time.

 

Reviews

[Lkjhgf]

The imagery evoked is absolutely beautiful; a beautiful mix of the soft and sensual (a wet stone or pearl picked by the lake where we eloped), with a strong, but not overwhelming pack of outright evil and mysery (angers the tears you refused to shed - goddless sex).

[bluessadmood]

this is a very sensual beautiful write,it ran smooth ,lots of images,though some places i could not follow,but really pretty writing,thank you

[Brette Medb]

I loved the flow... this was strong and evocative. I liked the ending and the harshness of it. Great write.


Brette

[Raef C. Boylan]

Very nice; it rolls off the tongue [of the mind] flawlessly.

Am I right in this: either
a) it isn't addressed directly to your muse
or
b) your muse/inspiration is a human partner?

Great interesting, original [and sensual] imagery throughout
"the dark shoals between my blades"
"bitters the honey of my crime"
"channelling rain, bees come near".

I've never personnified mine or spoken of writing in terms of muses, and maybe I should; maybe that's why inspiration has abandoned me - my neglect pissed it off?
Lol.
Amazing poem - it swoops and soars, capturing picturesque landscapes that overwhelm with passion and thinking. Thanks for posting it.

[Emily B]

I sat for the longest time contemplating the difference between your muse and mine. I wonder how our individual Muse is chosen for us. Somewhere between light and darkness, we draw lots for that which will feed, devour and elude us all through our individual journeys. My muse is quiet echoes on the wind and cool ripplings in mountain streams, sometimes. . .