Death of a Muse

By Muse…As suggested by My Muse

How do you kill a Muse?
Rejection?
Dismissal?
Hilarity bordering on
Hysteria?

Dependence versus resentment versus creation—
What a choice?

The Muse…
Essential, yet potentially oppressive, disruptive
Or simply—not knowing

Uncomfortable?
HA!!

My face is burning red
Even thinking these thoughts
My muse has me
On fire!

This—
Should be a BBC
Comedic murder mystery
A comedic epic
I’ll write a screenplay

(A pen dripping in blood
Splashing on a sheet of parchment
Spreading, sinisterly
Across the page

The Muse…
Faked her own death
The silly poet
In jeopardy)

How do you
Bury a Muse—
A power
Of unknown dimension

Not a chance
They know how to come back
Laughing, cajoling, wrestling, involving…
Bringing the chaos
That I love.

I teeter
I totter
I waver

I always…
Fall back
And stand up
With
My Muse—
She is
Vital

This doesn’t change
When you’re pissed or angry
It’s just more relevant
I write

Inspiration comes from
Introspection
But also from you,
My Muse
An outside influence
Of immense
Value

If…
She was…
Personal?
Would that change?

If she cries
If she bleeds
If she smiles
When she leaves
Me

A saboteur, a thought seducer
I love

But…
I think
I twisted my ankle
Just contemplating it
(Seriously, I did)

My Muse
Is…
My phoenix
I do not succumb
I accept
The flight

She
Is
Beautiful

Her smile?
Mischievous

Her wink?
Devious

Her lips?
Painted in red
Kissed me
In the Phantom’s theater

Death
Is not an
Option

Books topple, papers swirl in a tornado,
I stumble, clutching my swollen ankle
The mystery
Of you
Always near,
Tender. Aware. Considerate
Warmth

There is no
“Death of a Muse”

Only…
The mystery
Of
You

How about?
Japanese
For dinner
Sushi? and poetry?

You…
Are beautiful

I love
You

Let’s write a haiku
Together
Start with..
We

We write in silence
Ink spills from my silly broken pen
The moon guides our hands

My Muse, my enigma
Ever renewing in—
In—
My imagination

Tender, painted lips
Roses bloom, their scent inviting
You, my phoenix, soar

On their breeze, your song
Chaos you invite brings warmth
To my heart, my dance

Lightning strikes, it’s real—
Still I write this dance, my fuel
Your spark, forever

Nothing
Will fail
That
Feeling

Your calm chaos
Is my
Fuel
My dance
Of life.
Is
Forever

Remember?
That lightning strike?
It’s real

And still
I write
About
Our dance

While…
Laying on the floor.

I…
Know…
She is not done

My Muse…
Let’s dance.
Slow.
And meaningful.