O, elusive muse pray tell, wherever do you hide?
In some dark cave beyond my reach, is that where you abide?
Or deep within the mind of man you make a scant abode,
In some golden valley or dainty fen, so we are often told.
Where you have gone to sulk within your hidden lair,
I will look, I will seek and endlessly I will hunt you there.
For others too have sought to know the magic that you hold
And thus create a work so fine their life will turn to gold.
But yet it is my pure desire to capture your elusive power
And make you subject to my will, for this the world I’ll scour.
Then when I have you where I need I’ll set you free to work,
Upon the tatters of my soul where some desires still lurk.
The joy will be my day of days to say I have you near,
As off to celebrate with mates and ample liquid cheer,
Though I must be weary for with all your flaming spite,
You will desert me in a flash while I enjoy my well earned skite.
There is no rhyme nor reason why I have to beg you so,
For many others write and paint and sculpt, it surely is the go,
But me, dear muse, I weep and gnash, in pain and anguish too,
As I wash all my writings and precious paper down the loo.
So have mercy, dear muse, on one so desperate to win a trick,
Which makes his friends declare that after all you’re really not a spoil sport.
It will be fine dear friend of mine when I can say you’ll not be bought
Then the two of us can have a laugh when on this poem we consort.
That’s all you have to say to me after such a battle royal,
Is it because you’d think the words I wrote would ultimately spoil
And turn to dust and wither on the arm that worked such toil?
Fear you not I’m no such fool my mind is like a tightened coil.
The very chance you took to hide in some dark hole below,
Had given me the reason to strike such a merry blow
And scribe the words I now do read, and read them rightly slow,
That when I’m done and praise be mine I will allow you go
Back to your haunt in dark and drear the place you like to hide,
So that folk like me with you in tow can never with you abide.
So fare thee well, o muse of mine, be free of me for now
And let me finish this wordy thing then I can take a bow.
It is off we go, the pair of us, you to hide and me to seek,
The where with all to write some more and passion well to keep,
Where writing is concerned I fear I am so mild and meek,
Then I will have to dream of you when I enter blessed sleep.
Adrian Kavanagh,
January 07, 2009
3 comments:
I was wondering if prick would sound better than spoil sport?And that you were being rather polite.Prick flows better and is in there with the work.
Apprently the late John Lennon had a movie made of his penis(soft and hard I believe)I presume Yoko Ono took it but no one has ever seen it."Ode to Art" indeed!It can mean many things to many people.An excellent work Adrian well done!
Where indeed does the muse hide? A great line! You have been very prolific Adrian.
I agree with Ian and Kym. An original poem which we can all identify with. I particularly like 'Where you have gone to skulk within your hidden lair' and your very up-to-date musings: 'down the loo', 'one so desperate to win a trick' and 'you to hide and me to seek'. Excellent poem.
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