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| Luis Morris: “Artist’s Muse” 2009 |
[On May 12 I submitted this poem to Highland Park Poetry’s Summer Muses’ Gallery – ODES. Though I told Jennifer Dotson at the time that “I think it worthy of submission,” I wasn’t sure it was, nor even sure it qualified as an “ode.”
Today, however, I received an email from Mary Beth Bretzlauf, an associate of Jennifer’s, that “We selected your poem ‘An Ode to My Muse’!” I guess it IS an ode! It was fashioned from my April 7 lyric poem, “When Your Muse Whispers.”]
I wonder at you, Muse,
at the workings of your mind,
your playings, your surprisings,
your flashings, twistings, turnings.
I don’t even know your name.
Who are you, what are you?
When you whisper to me,
I listen to your words,
I welcome their embrace.
I write them down,
I note their shapes.
I hold them, feel them,
glide with them,
thrust to their rhythms.
I practice their phrasings,
finger them, hold them,
feel them, squeeze them,
bring them to my lips, kiss them.
I take them in my mouth,
roll them on my tongue,
taste them, swallow them,
throb to their beat,
poised to speak.
I beseech you, Muse, remove
your veil, show me your face,
tell me your name.
Who are you, what are you?
Are you God? Are you me?
| Copyright © 2022 by Moristotle |
Indeed. Who is that niggling little nag in the back of the brain? She won't shut up, won't leave us alone. And she has this curious habit of, once in a great while, becoming a glorious, blazing angel of light, when we grasp, maybe if not who she is, at least some poor semblance of what she WANTS.
ReplyDeleteI was feeling very sad this morning, and on my walk this “nag in the back of my brain” (or somewhere close) seemed to be saying that she was sad, and that that was not a bad thing, but could also teach me something. She was with me always, in glad times and bad.
DeleteCongrats!
ReplyDeleteMany thanks for all of your encouragement!
ReplyDelete