Blame the Muse

You were always one to blame the muse
The silence in seduction
Brought you to your knees
The curve of belly fat
Melting into your minutes
Violent in brush strokes
Prodding the paint
You were always one to blame your muse
For sweating lines
And dragged colours
The way the sky melts into the sea
You could not
For the life of you
Or the life of me
Paint my tender breasts
In soft pinks
Hardening reds
And soulful browns
How my legs never quite reached
The cool of the cement
You were always one to blame a muse
Berry stains upon your lips
Stuck between your teeth
Slurring the words of another
Into my ear
You say life never gave you
As much as you could give
That the power in dynamics
Could never balance the scales
How all that you sought to know
Melted between your fingers the tighter you held on
You were meant to be great
Meant to be someone
Who someone knew
In passing
Whispering that’s him
It must be
You were meant to be recognized
In grandiose settings
And small cafes
Scattered across the European papers
Sewed slick on each tongue
You knew you were meant to be
More than you were
But you were always one to blame the muse

Reviews

[Ken e Bujold]

this is an absolutely marvelous poem. Perfectly pitched. An accusation that straddles but never falls off the ledge into venomous bile. I especially love the line "you could not/for the life of you/or the life of me/paint my tender breasts/in soft pinks/hardening reds/and soulful browns" as evocative an image as I have had the pleasure of reading in quite some time.
Great work TTSN
ken e

[The Things She Noted]

Thank you so much, Ken, for such a lovely comment! Much appreciated! :)

[Chris Shaw]

He had quite a high opinion of himself didn't he? Couldn't accept the blame for his own failings. Love the way you tell this tale in brush strokes. Really nice piece of writing. Well done.

Chris

[The Things She Noted]

Thank you so much, Chris!

[Richard Knox]

A nicely-written impressionist portrait of one who believes he deserves to be considered great, but does nothing to achieve it. His is a corrosive type of entitlement that infects those around him, but is ultimately most destructive to himself. I want to feel sad for him, but, instead, I’m ashamed to say, I rejoice in his comeuppance. Does that make me complicit in his failure?

[The Things She Noted]

Thank you!!

[carl]

Good read, blame throwing is something at which we all excel one time or another, and who better than the the one who is suppose to inspire, that's going right at the heart. Cement line caused be to stumble a bit, but overall excellent flow. great opening and close, something which I find difficult. Glad to have read it, thanks for the posting. Peace to you.

[The Things She Noted]

Thank you so much, Carl! I agree, the cement line sounds somewhat out of place - thank you for the feedback!

[John the Baptist]

More than a little bitterness here. The speaker's view is that the addressee had an exalted self opinion and placed the blame for failure elsewhere. It is an old story. The self deluded often cannot accept responsibility for their shortcomings. I wonder how the other side of the argument sounds.