Poetry 101: The Muses
Before science, someone
had to take the blame.
When Greeks and Romans wore togas,
they decided different godds were responsible
for natural phenomenon, like rain and waves,
olive trees, dawns and sunsets,
and even the rifts between people
and changing seasons.
They also needed epic characters who
they could ask for help when they felt stuck
forming a song or a play or a poem.
Someone divine to plead to when
we sense creative drought and doubt,
when we get out of practice.
Nine Muses offer the solution.
One or two add spice to love letters.
They all still carry the weight of artists and storytellers —
we praise them and we meet them
where they are, which is everywhere,
including the deep woods, the markets,
the campgrounds, the shallow
gossip, the bottom of your pocket,
the missed text, the bleak breaking news.
They lean in as we wash brushes
and work toward our word counts.
They steady the hand that cooks,
that lectures, that mends, that heals.
When we’re crafty, aligned
and questionably lucky,
they nudge us to action
before we have the chance
to sit still.
15 thoughts on "Poetry 101: The Muses"
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Really like how this ends, with the combination of craft, stars aligned and luck. That feels so true to me.
They have the nerve to pressure you at inconvenient times, especially if you’ve been back to your craft.
Getting the visual of our muses reading over our shoulders as we create and channel them from this. Love the ending too, it really is a matter of everything lining up just right to produce that spark of action
Thank you. That was a nice moment to capture as I did it!
Thanks for appreciating it, too.
Great opening line. This feels like a story book documentary, which I love. It hits home especially because I keep a small, novelty Thalia wound in whiskers and lint in the hem of my hat; and I think she’s convinced that she’s perhaps the sole solution to manifold maladies small and yawning. Thank you, Tabby, for the bright morning poem.
Awww! Thalia and you know what’s up!
This was inspired by a work friend texting “I’m a guy. You lost me at the first two lines” to yesterday’s poem.
We joked about him needing an introduction to the muses.
It being a storybook documentary, then, is perfect!
My love to you and yours!
Reminds me of Flannery O’Connor’s prayer: “Please help me, dear God, to be a good writer and to get something else accepted”. Here’s to having someone divine to plead to – dear universe, help me get through June.
Wonderful response!
O’Conner is so good. We’ll make it thru June together.
And you reminded me how I’d say “take it to the muses!” before I performed in band in high school.
You just gotta surrender it elsewhere and trust all the rehearsals before.
Nice poem! I think I’m going to write about one of the nine muses today. I need a poem. Thanks.
Oh I hope it’s a poem you’ll want to share!
Can’t wait to see which Muse you pick. 💖
Cool! Next time I have writer’s block I’m going to blame those heartless muses.
As well you should!
It’s clearly all them.
Beautiful! From the first stanza that really commanded attention to “before we have the chance / to sit still.” And yes, may we all continue to be nudged this month!
Grabbed me here: “Before science, someone
had to take the blame.” and held me here: “They lean in as we wash brushes/and work toward our word counts” and nudged me onward here: ” to action/before we have the chance/to sit still.”
I have always loved how human the characters of Greek mythology are. May our collective muses save their fickleness for July!