Used to Be The Muse

Just read and review please!

Sunlight escapes from the curtains
and casts a bold line on
the old, aged wallpaper,
As a woman wakes up from a deep sleep.

She has aged
whose face was once beautiful is now lined in wrinkles
like the rivers and canyons that line this very earth,
a face that was once admired, obsessed over,
and even loved.

Admirers wonder why she was not a leading lady
or a face on Vogue
remaining a diamond within undiscovered caves.

She attracted people and watchful stares
like a bright porch light to the bugs of the night,
hoping her aura of perfection
would rub off on them,
putting them under her spell.

Well as the years past by,
more and more of her beauty
started to dim,
leaving those river wrinkles,
as the bugs
fly away without
looking back,
leaving her solitary and alone.

So she gets up and hastily gets dressed
hoping she could have at least a shred of
human contact,
a smiling face in her direction,
or just a friend to talk to,
so that she could realize that she exists,
even as the aged ex-muse.

Now she sits at an outdoor cafe
gazing at the sights and people,
until she saw of what she used to be .

A beautiful girl
with dark hair flowing in the breeze
like black silk,
her eyes like amber,
glittering with the soul she had,
back when she was a diamond in the cave.

Then she saw an average Joe, gazing at the beauty
with admiring eyes, hoping
she would also be in his heart to cherish and love one day.

The old lady sighs. memories rushed through her
until she was back in the present, from being a spell casting beauty
to being lonely in her old wallpapered room,
with her aged, wrinkled face.

" I wish I was the muse again", she thought, nostalgic.

Author's Note

Suggestions?

Reviews

[Matyushkin]

I was just thinking presently that a poem must rhyme to be considered a poem. After reading about the 'ex-muse', I realised I was wrong. (By the way, love that she was described like that--very original!) The poem was gracefully written. It played upon the ear like a song but it didn't rhyme. I see now that, a true poetry is beautiful. This poem made me see that. Rhyming is for songs.

Overall Review: true poetry

[Yira Simone]

Sunlight escapes from the curtains
and casts a bold line on
the old, aged wallpaper,
As a woman wakes up from a deep sleep. (Perfect entry into this woman's life)

She has aged
whose face was once beautiful is now lined in wrinkles
like the rivers and canyons that line this very earth,
a face that was once admired, obsessed over,
and even loved.

Admirers wonder why she was not a leading lady
or a face on Vogue
and instead being so intensely beautiful,
but average. (I would do away with this stanza altogehter because your next stanza say the same thing, but even better).

She attracted people and watchful stares
like a bright porch light to the bugs of the night,
hoping her aura of perfection
would rub off on them,
putting them under her spell.

Well as the years past by, (Drop the "Well"...it throws off the flow the poem just a tad.)
more and more of her beauty
started to dim,
leaving those river wrinkles, (I would drop this line, you spoke of her writnkles already and lead into the next line by saying..."the bugs flew away without looking back...to a place where there was still light.)
as the bugs
fly away without
looking back,
leaving her solitary and alone.

So she gets up and hastily gets dressed (Drop gets and change dressed to dresses, also "She got up and...")
hoping she could have at least a shred of (Maybe try this...'Hoping she could encounter a least a shred...)
human contact,
a smiling face in her direction,
or just a friend to talk to,
so that she could realize that she exists,
even as the aged ex-muse.

Now she sits at an outdoor cafe
gazing at the sights and people,
until she saw of what she used to be . (perfect)

A beautiful girl
with dark, flowing hair flowing in the breeze
like black silk,
her eyes like amber,
glittering with the soul she had,
looking like the ideal perfection. (Drop "looking like" ( it throws the flow off as well) and just say "the model of perfection.)

Then she saw an average Joe, gazing at the beauty (Drop "at the beauty" or say "at her beauty". We know she is beautiful)
with admiring eyes, hoping
she would also be in his heart to cherish and love one day.

The old lady sighs. memories rushed through her
until she was back in the present, from being a spell casting beauty
to being lonely in her old wallpapered room,
with her aged, wrinkled face. (perfect)

" I wish I was the muse again", she thought, nostalgic. ( this is a good line, but you really don't need it...her sigh in the previous stanza concludes this thoughts already).

This was a very good poem! I think that you captured the feeling of regret and lonliness very well. Beauty fades over time and if that is all you based your life on then you are screwed as in the case of the woman in your poem. You have matured and grown as a writer my dear. This was very good. I hope my suggestions help you out some.-Catrina

[Brenda Sue]

Very well written. I love the story line here. Great job.

These two lines seem a little off. I read them several times, not sure what it is.
and instead being so intensely beautiful,
but average.

And this line; with dark, flowing hair flowing in the breeze ; I don't think it needs both of the flowings.

Wonderfully penned. I loved it.