Tender touches
twilight now
when you would walk through moon beams
silver youth, in my mind,
your long-tossed hair that fleeting glimpse
unworthy hands would never know.
A dream-wrought kiss
for all sensation’s cheer—
a note to set the pen to dance
beneath your light.
What is your name?
Reality, but a longing and a life
no bearing on the yearning—
the dreamer’s supple realm.
A thousand ships would sail for you,
in mind, while your eyes turned—
it wasn’t till the flesh took my hand,
crowned in cruel identity
cast me out to sea
that all those ships were set to burning.
* My latest contribution to One Shot Poetry Wednesday. This piece was essentially the second part to the post I made yesterday, on muses and their very real, physical departure, in the form of people. Yesterday I gave other people’s thoughts on muses, but today I put forth my own thoughts on the muse’s withdrawal. For those with a physical embodiment to their own creative drive…
The Waking Den 
Love it. Can’t even tell you how much.
ah the death of a muse is a sad thing…the burning of the ships is great symbolism, so one can not turn back or is it the burial of a true warrior….dont give up on the fair muse yet…
Ahhh but she reappears in the wreckage
Well written piece – I love the ponderings of the muse
she is a mystery to be sure
best to you Chris as you look or wait
the ships set to burning is strong…love your musings chris…such a fleeting thing we can’t grab with with our hands or minds…also love – a thousand ships would sail for you…beautiful image
so good! i could feel her slipping right through your hands 😦
beautifully done, Chris.
Tragically, it was just so. I thought her a dear friend, and she certainly inspired…but alas, she cast me aside quite easily, as it turned…
A powerful image at the end. I think muses can take a nap from time to time, but judging by your words, not yet.
This is really good, Chris. I love the burning of the ships … Sorry about the loss of your muse… It’s hard.
I think we gain a bit of self confidence when we realize that our muse was perhaps a crutch and we must go forward alone — and stronger.
Love the end, the cascade to it, and the pondering and dreaming along the way that make the journey meaningful.
My muse, I suppose, comes and goes. The physical embodiment of him/her comes to me in many forms, all of them fleeting. When he/she goes missing they can often be found swimming in a bottle of Pinot Gris.
I love the sentiment in this poem, Chris. I think of my muse as an old street whore who wears a silver dress on the full moon. xxxj
loved it chris..written very well…and boy do i know that muse thing!!!! cheers pete
A heart-felt cry to the indifferent muse.
The last 6 lines were so poignant.
I felt this.
Totally been there, Chris, about 12 years ago now, but the temporary projection of my muse on a physical person did bring her alive for me, and although the person has gone, the muse remains awake within. Sometimes I miss the immediate intensity of that passionate connection, but writing goes on.
And I’ve built an entire creativity coaching program around the idea of Dancing with Your Muse.
So, all good in the end, or beginning.
You have captured the desire, the loss, perfectly.
This is really beautiful.
Fantastic writing here Chris.
I think our muses exist in many different forms, perhaps in some respects we choose our own muses
Wonderful poem Chris – magical even. Beautifully entwines the dreams of youth with the reality of adulthood. I have been meaning to comment on the picture at the top of your blog for a while as it reminds me so much of the scene that one could see in my parents bedroom (the view was prevented from downstairs because of a stone wall.) It was a tiny piece of the ancient estate of Lord Muncaster’s in Rainford, England, and was almost surreal in beauty. There was a tiny boathouse many Centuries old to the side of the lake and truly it was Camelot. Whenever I see your blog I think of it. Thanks for sharing Chris!
The muse’s call like a siren, sometimes distant haunting through mist. Other times sharp as the blade… I enjoyed the time spent. Thanks for stopping by my neck of the woods.
Ahh tis terrible..heartbreaking nay killing when that happens. When one is just forgotten. People move on without a second thought..without a second glance with scant thought for what it will do the person they leave behind….
Wonderful piece =)
I honestly felt landing here on this piece when I did is serendipity to my own recent muse encounters. I has been a fascinating experience and then arriving here to read your words left a profound impact on me. I cannot thank you enough ~ Rose
Powerful, your imagery Chris! Beuatiful, and I agree with Rose’s comment above too. You leave impact on the reader, one of the best One Shot’s I’ve read so far..
you may have lost a friend, but you must have at least one more muse… this is stunning!