Musing on Muses

by Narph   Jan 16, 2014


My muse jumped ship, as I was sailing home.
I strung the lyrics of her creation into rope,
and flew them to her palm,
but desperate though I tried to pull her back,
her golden locks drifted, farther and farther
as the grey mist churned with phantoms
and spit empty shadows in my face.
When I brought the line in, all I found were
sopping words, frail and fraying,
dead as this poem, bitter with descent.

2010

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Latest Comments

  • 10 years ago

    by Skyfire

    Great imagery here!

  • 10 years ago

    by Chelsey

    Whoa, what so we have here? This is just my personal preference, I love poetry about poetry!! This is like nothing I've ever read on the topic before. The image you create here, stunning. I picture absolutely everything. The tossing of the rope, reeling her back in, the disappointed look in your face when you see what is returned ...this is so intriguing, I really enjoyed this!

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