What Makes A Poet Sing?

(when the muse calls)

I can not say for sure why I

can sing with words but can not hit

a single note in perfect tune.

From where it comes I do not know,

those random musings that appear

at times intrusive, sometimes rude.

When I am far removed from all

that's light and bright with daily life,

she seeks me out in dark of night,

when shadows fall on bedroom walls

or when in wonderment I search

the heavens with their clustered stars.

My senses gripped, my mind is stirred

for answers that I'll never find

and then a stream of thoughts will flow,

a trickle first and then a flood

like leeches with their love of blood

she'll cling to me and won't let go.

But when I have a pen in hand,

I own the world as I see fit.

I own the strengths and worst of it.

From my perspective readers see

the blackened soot or threads of gold

that weave my blend of tapestry.

Reviews

[Jon Roggie]

Noticed this on the feed, and I am glad I took the time to read it.
Each of us has our own muse, and inspires us in many ways.
I know for me it was a way to relax after a long shift in the kitchen.
It gave a different type of creativity to have a chance.
Nice to see what inspires you!

[Chris Shaw]

So sorry I missed this review three years ago Jon. Better late than never. Thank you my friend. read moreSo sorry I missed this review three years ago Jon. Better late than never. Thank you my friend.

Chris

[jacob erin-cilberto]

"But when i have a pen in hand,/ I own the world as i see fit"
drastically impressive lines, Chris...
Wow.

[Chris Shaw]

Aw, thanks Jacob for giving this oldie an airing. It's good to let poems breathe. Much appreciated.
The oldie here is the poem of ciutse, but it could so easily be me :)

Chris

[Chris Shaw]

Oops forgive the typos.

[Stella Armour]

i know exactly what you mean here Chris, i had a long spell of refusing to write simply because my muse always came to me just as i went to bed or shortly after; to this day i keep pencil and paper at the side of my bed. i find if i can scribble the words down, even in the dark then i can get back to sleep. lol

[Chris Shaw]

Good morning Stella. I think your muse and mine have the same habits. I also have to keep pen and paper by my bed. When I haven't I have written poems in my head that have gone without trace in the morning. The frustration!!! Yes once written down, we can get some sleep. Know that feeling so much. Thank you for sharing your thoughts

Chris

[barleygirl]

For me, it’s being able to write with ease, but not being able to speak conversationally. I’ve honed the art of asking questions of the other person so I don’t have to try to form sentences impromptu in person. I’ve lost friends becuz of my inability to chat on the phone for hours while some just don’t care to try to read me one bit. So many misfits in my efforts to express myself. Your poem is like balm to know other writers have similar struggles, but also different from mine. Your details are well-expressed to convey this mystery from your point of view. I’ve finally come to own the fact that my gift is coupled with a profound inadequacy! *sigh!* Fondly, Margie

[Chris Shaw]

Dear Margie, lets celebrate the gift we have been given and forget about the crap. Everyone is inadequate at something, that seems normal to me. May you continue to shine.

Chris

[Fabian G. Franklin]

"I hear the sound of distant drums and when they call, I must go" from Distant Drums by Cindy Walker...We all listen for the sound of our inspiration. For soldiers it may be the drum or the bugle, for the factory worker; the ringing of the morning alarm and for the poet, the whispering of the muse. We are all workers, all soldiers, all poets in our many and varied vocations as human beings. Some just never answer the call. Thank you for responding to yours as your writing is so very enjoyable. Bless.

[Chris Shaw]

Your response warms my heart Fabian. Thank you and may your muse always beat that drum for you. I for one am happy to read your fine lines.

Chris

[Lydia Shutter]

The muse strikes when it suits her. We are her vehicle. We drive when and where she demands. Yes the world is created by the poet, but the muse really runs the show. Every poet can identify with this well written poem. Lydi**

[Chris Shaw]

Thank you Lydi, and may the muse always favour you.

[Mrudula Rani]

I loved the title of your poem. It so hard to tell what makes a poet sing. When something inside stirs the poet I suppose she ( he) sings. That something can greet the poet, wrap her ( him) around its little finger and twirl, till volumes pour forth. You have penned a pearl of a perfect poem that is beautiful.

[Chris Shaw]

Thank you for your wonderful response.

[Richard🖌]

Gosh, Chris!
With this one, you just sent me soaring over the poetic rainbow.
To have such a thrilling poem written about them like this beaut makes one wish they were your muse. ; )
If this enchantingly gorgeous suite of verses were composed in iambic pentameter, they would be Blank Verse pieces, but in perfect iambic tetrameter, they are enthralling Sestets that stand-up and sing to every poet's heart and soul.

You're an amazing poetess, and I love reading you … thanks ever-so warmly, Chris ⁓ Richard

[Chris Shaw]

Now you've got me blushing Richard so I have blown three kisses in the wind to you. Thank you, thank you.

[Richard🖌]

Thought I felt something soft and sweet brush my lips. ; )

[Chris Shaw]

:)) .............

[Jimmy Yetts]

Elegantly portrayed.
My Muse, unfortunately, is a lot like an unfaithful wife--she's never home and hardly ever puts out.
Excellent poem, Chris!

[Chris Shaw]

Thank you Jimmy. Your description of your muse has me smiling. I've heard a lot of things about muses, but yours takes the trophy.

[Phill Oz O'fee]

The mysteries of the creative mind - where thoughts and inspiration spring from unknown secret influences! Your write reflects the wonderment of our secret gift - bestowed from where (?); but grateful for the blessing! A lovely write -- enjoyed the read and took pleasure in your words! :-)

[Chris Shaw]

Yes a secret gift indeed, and I am truly thankful for it, as I am this lovely review you have given.

Chris

[.]

I guess we all have our talents and other things we just cannot grasp no matter how hard we try. I am sure many of us would like to paint like the great impressionists or sing like Sinatra. Dance like Gene Kelly or run like Usain Bolt. We are all individuals and all we can do is make the most of the gift we possess.

I enjoyed this piece. It flows very well and i agree with Jacob. We all can relate. Nicely written.

[Chris Shaw]

Thank you Doodley. Pleased you can relate to my poem. Have a lovely day.

Chris