Dearest Muse, I'm sorry

[Zariah]

Dearest muse, I’m sorry--

 

You left me without as much as a farewell.

And so I thought you would return.

But time’s passed on and still you’re gone,

I’m here alone and vacant.

 

Did I take you for granted?

‘Cause now I know how much you mean to me.

Maybe I didn’t follow your direction?

There’s regret because I’m completely lost.

 

I should have paid attention to your calls,

For now there is no drive to create.

I feel dull and boring and sick inside.

Come back so I can feel alive?

 

I’ll try real hard to make you proud.

And share with others our combined works.

I’ve no inspiration without you.

And without you, there’s no creation.

[Appy]

And how is this not a poem I ask?

 

Seems to me your muse hasn't abandoned you, merely redirected maybe.

I enjoyed this at least, and isn't that why you post here in the first place? To share with others what you feel.

 

I enjoyed it because it was a well written piece on something we all go through, some of us for a longer period of time, others forever (as it seems with me). It meant enjoyment for me to see that I'm not the only one with such thoughts, and I thank you for putting them in to words as to-the-point as you have here.

 

Don't ever give up, and keep on listening, muses are never far away when you let them

 

*hugs*

[drummondo]

Dearest poet,

 

By your quiet ramblings I am amused.

Do not apologise or be afraid.

It seems you are a little bit confused;

I haven't left, I'm merely left unused,

For you can write as well without my aid.

 

I need not say goodbye, for I'll be here

To watch each word you write, each worn-out rhyme,

And offer kind advice whene'er you fear

You've failed to make that last emotion clear,

And so produce a poem every time.

 

You are not lost, you're simply blind with thought,

A poet's curse, which binds thee to your pen.

You cannot view the world, for you are wrought

With ideas and couplets of the sort

That, given time, will help you see again.

 

Understand, the reason that you write

Is not to make me proud, or for the praise.

It is a simple outlet for your plight -

A poet you are, be it wrong or right,

A poet you shall be till th'end of days.

[Mynx]

I second Appy, Z.

Not only is this a poem, it's a very good one.

I know what it's like to have an absent muse, but if this is your poetry without inspiration, I'd love to see what it's like when your muse is in full flow!

[epinephrine]

Mynx,

 

I'm sure your muse is not that far away. I enjoyed your "not poem" and can't wait to see an even more mused version soon. I can really relate to that feeling of lack of inspiration sometimes though so thank you for your post.

 

epinephrine

[Mynx]

Uh...

*points at Zariah*

Not me, ep

[Zariah]

But don’t you see?

It’s not a poem.

Just a plea of words

Put into “stanza” shape.

 

No rhyme

Or Rhythm

Lacking creativity

And terminology

 

I just keep holding on….

Something keeps me driving forward.

The desire to feel proud of myself once again-

To wrap myself in a blanket of warmth and satisfaction.

 

In one way or another, I bear my soul

Although through writing, it feels productive.

Now, I bear this burden of separation

WHERE is that burst, that substance, that energy?

 

At least I haven’t given up hope….

[Katzaniel]

But time’s passed on and still you’re gone,

Rhyming.

 

I’ve no inspiration without you.

And without you, there’s no creation.

Repetition.

 

Maybe I didn’t follow your direction?

There’s regret because I’m completely lost.

Clever use of different meanings of "direction" and "lost".

 

 

 

I do know what you mean, Zariah. But poetry can take many forms, and this poem certainly has some merit of its own, despite the fact that you would prefer to see it in a different, "inspired" form.

 

Maybe when your Muse comes back, you can rework it. (Or maybe with a little help from the various Pen poets, you can rework it now )

Edited May 10, 2005 by Katzaniel