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Fickle Muse
Through all the years and all the tears,
the crying's almost done.
The rain has passed, the Sun's come out,
and the blues are on the run.
Each tear stained note, put to rote,
is fading from the page.
A Renaissance of write, saw the light,
and ushered in a new age.
Words that rhyme, so sublime,
poetically form a song.
Tunes in the head, with words unsaid,
run through the mind all night long.
At morning light, tunes fade from sight,
must get them on the page.
The wisdom of the dream, in daylight seen,
is no longer sage.
The muse is fickle; it comes and goes,
must capture its delight.
Grab the words and lay them out,
naked in plain sight.
To form an epic so obtuse,
throw up hands, for what's the use.
The muse may come, and it may stay,
but tarnished words won't go away.
Copyright 2007 © Ronald W. Hull
8/17/07
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If it comes and goes
And you have to get out bed to write the words down
On paper or on your journal it always happens to me too
You wrote some beautiful lyrics
You could easily turn this ode into a song
Absolutely beautiful stunning imagery and
Excellent that rhyme!
I love this piece!!
Love Peace and many Hugssss.....Morning Star
Love Tinka "oh so bad!!
run through the mind all night long."
I can certainly relate to this process here Ron. Often I wake up many times to the same tune playing and know I should do something; but I've never found it easy to wake up in the middle of the night and write, or capture, the gist of the muses moanings.
I used to have a little tape recorder next to the bed so I could record key words, or emotions, which may be of use the next day - this worked sometimes, sometimes not.
I enjoyed this poem, especially the thought process that honed it.
Blessings ...
Richard
down then..
Neat write Ron
Stay safe.....