Where Does the Muse Dwell?
I’ve spent time searching for her,
this sprite of writing,
this lady of the lyric-lake,
this siren of synonyms and antonyms,
this paramour of the poets—
perhaps not for me,
a celibate of syllables and repartee.
She has her seductions:
the hint of light over the Sandias,
the layers of mesa-color,
the one bud that survives the heat of day.
I have met her in the cocktail-lounge
of our common laughter, the final rasps
of departing life, the revelation
of sacrifice (old Father Albert, cancer-
ravaged, admits his ignorance
of my troubles, but says, “I’m fasting
for you today,” and the muse winked.)
Will she visit again?
Perhaps I will see
her skirts flash around a dream-corner,
or her ghost around the edges of my eyes
before I rub away the narrative of the night.
Is the waiting worth it? Will she deign
to call on me again as I sit with regrets
and resolutions? Will she still want
to rest a hand on the hand that holds
this pen (or rather, taps this keyboard)
in the sliver of space
between life
and wonder?
9 thoughts on "Where Does the Muse Dwell?"
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Thank you, Greg, for this lyrically musical offering. Timeless quality of the title is a path writers have travelled through the ages. Carefully crafted, deftly worded, with rich relatable imagery. Well done
“her skirts flash around a dream-corner,
or her ghost around the edges of my eyes
before I rub away the narrative of the night.”
Very nice!
I was already in a daze after the first stanza, but you keep bringing on the beauty, Greg. And the surprises – the cocktail lounge, the confessional . . .
Lovely! I love this flow of images and wonderment— this search all poets (and others have). You captured this search more beautifully than I’ve ever seen.
Beautiful, Greg. Especially, “Perhaps I will see/her skirts flash around a dream-corner,/or her ghost around the edges of my eyes/before I rub away the narrative of the night.
Great depiction of the muse…she is elusive and appears when we least expect…
You had me from that first stanza! We are lucky that the muse comes to you and you find her in your poems, over and over!
You captured the muse better than I’ve ever seen anyone do! Kudos!
This flows so well and is relatable. You capture images in word and emotion that takes us along for the ride. Many times, elusive “her skirts flash around a dream= corner or her ghost around the edges of my eyes” is a perfect description. She was definitely with you in this poem.