Death of a Muse

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…

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Homeless Holidays

Too often this time of year, it is habit and standard to think of those closest to our hearts, those we love and cherish and hold above all others. We think of those presents we wish to give them, the smiles on their faces. We think of the cheer on their faces and let it become the holiday, and that is beautiful, and good.

But in that process, we often forget the others – those people that do not have the luxury of that cheer. This is not a wholesale judgment of others, for I recognize the tendency in myself as well – it is only natural, but we must force ourselves to face reality, to turn our minds and our hearts beyond our own.

To that note, for this Christmas Eve I grant a more solemn contribution to the season, the reality of the above:

Carolers sing out,

cheer static smothers cardboard

hides the ringing cups.

This season, just remember, as you are opening gifts and trading smiles with those you care about, that there are others, much less fortunate than we, who will not experience that joy. There are those with naught but memories of these things, and some that have never gotten to experience that holiday joy…please, keep them in your thoughts as well.

Asylum

 

Claudio Mufarrege's "The Arrow Shot"

You bind me

But your walls, your halls they cannot hold me

Body broken but the spirit

Rise, swimming in the deep

Recesses of the forgotten—

Mind: sole reality of prison

You forget, but this soul knows,

It reaches through your gray decay

And in the darkness spring forth wings

To flight, unknown, and I am nothing and no one

But here I am,

These halls

Are mine.

* Photography by Claudio Mufarrege, from her gorgeous photos and interview I conducted with her, as featured on One Stop Poetry.

Forgotten Tower

Black waters dripping from a lonely tower,

The watch fires long since died.

Crumbling bricks betray its tale—

Its friends have long since passed it by.

Grasses overgrown, it stands secluded,

Cut off from the world beyond—

Weeping as a child in the bitter night.

A stray mouse prods the rotting mass—

The tower crumbles down.

Another vivid memory

Has faded into dark.

We’ve seen the mountains rise from hills…

We’ve seen the mountains rise from hills,

Watched forests bloom from flowers.

We’ve seen the waters rise and fall,

And seen so many setting suns—

Such sights that you could never know.

We walked the world

With loving family, all—

We wandered plains and forests both,

Loved by Mother Earth.

We’ve seen so many moons,

Bathed within so many starry seas—

Yet still it seems our time has come.

In dead of night you wretches came,

Blazing rifles in your hands.

You killed our prey,

You drove us away—

What did we ever do to you?

We fled in our confusion,

But from you there was no hiding.

You tracked us down and shot us dead—

All of my beloved family.

We’ll never see the Moon again,

Nor the freezing of the streams—

The Sun is but a fleeting dream,

The Wind a fading memory.

Where once our noble howls rang,

The land now fades to silence.

I am of race by far your elder—

A brother you betrayed.

Perhaps you will regret

Once we are all no more.

Perhaps a tear will fall

When those children look to you

And with their glittering eyes they ask,

“What is that thing you call a Wolf?”

Fading Gods

He gazes down from hea’n above,

Watching through a powdered dove.

His people walk the Earth below,

Dreaming of what they can not know.

He sighs and turns away,

As his people begin to go astray.

He wanders then to ancient hall,

Where so many ‘fore had come to fall.

Broken statues linger here,

Of fallen Gods who’d known this fear.

That noble Odin,

That beauty Benten,

Oh great Anubis!—

All fell into the great Abyss…

Fear begins to creep,

Even Gods are known to weep—

Is he destined for this same grim fate?

Can he only pray and wait?

He is as great as any passed,

And his kingdom is so very vast;

He looks into their wand’ring eyes,

Ever watching from the skies.

Is this God destined for the same grim fate,

That fell on those before him?

They say he is so great a being—

But can he face that test of time,

That felled those powers all,

That came before him

In those days of old?