Mine sometimes packs a bag and goes off on holiday without even a word or thought of me being left behind--searching. Fickle things! I think we all can appreciate this, Gene. Well done! ~Elizabeth

Good poem about the creative process!

very nice indeed Gene, well done

Oh the muses can be so inspiring and yet so cruel. Wonderfully penned Gene.

How playful you are with your muse,Gene,and I'm sure when she abandons you, it's just a tease,she will be back to taunt you more;-)

surely in these lovely abandons
she is caressing the very thoughts
of your beautiful muse...I see her
with feathers lightly penning on the
parchments of your soul Gene
in this Beautiful Offering

Love's Bounty & Inspirations
Vickie

ooo, such a tease and a tartar, that one! Don't they ALL treat us like the Red Queen or the Duchess in Alice in Wonderland sometimes, Gene? Leaving us sinking sleepily into our dormouse teapots without so much as a "No room! No room!" Seems to me like the fertile garden of your brain is the perfect place to take an inspirational, fascinating walk ... now where's that gull of yours for croquet?! Drop her one of your white kid gloves and I bet she'll come running... unless, of course, me ears and whiskers have got this all wrong... :)) xx

You did a great job even if she was away for a bit! Take care,~Chessly

VERY BEAUTIFUL!!!!!!!!!!!!! Liana Margiva

The siren voice of the moon pulls you onward in this twilight poem, gene.

I wouldn't go looking for her you're doing allright on your own. ~ Morgan

One of your best, yet!

Yes....that muse of mine is sometimes elusive as well....you've expressed every writer's thoughts here....and very well I might add..

Anna

Hello Gene, what a well written poem. There is a lot of talent in it. Susan

mine too my friend, been having a really hard time lately coming up with ideas. sometimes you have to do exactly what you've done here, take the lemon and make lemonade, take the block and write about it and see what comes out. this a lovely piece gene, scalpel precision this beauty!!

My muse takes vacations as well...I just wish he or she or it would take me with when away it goes...e

woman of the night is she Gene, your muse - she may have left before you wished -- but you left her fee on the nightstand of whimsies - and she left you a marker of poetic worth -- with her parting embrace and the hushed whisper of inspiration into your ear -- I bid you love and peace my dear friend -- Jon Michael

Isn't she the wicked one playing with you
like that, Gene, but see what happens when she does...
she leaves you 'wordless'
and virtually wordless am i to express
how delightful this poem is.

John

Magnificent and ingenious!
Blessings,
Christine

Hmmm. I thought she was only my muse, Gene. Seems to me she's been doing some two-timing. Great personification. Thanks for sharing. Love and peace to you,

Regis

I don't know what thought, pull, or inspiration it was to begin this gem, but truly Gene it is breathtaking, your ending left a sad punch...wonderful work!
Christine

Let it be known that Julie, in her review of my muse poem, typed
"poor" in the 3rd line when she meant to write "pour"...I'm so delighted with the time she took to pen her excellent review that I wouldn't care if she had written "pore" or "xklf"...Actually, Julie
can do no rong. -gene.

WOMEN! they can be SO fickle. My muse is female too (I think; never thought about it) - and is always running off, that slut. But look, my poems are a struggle too -- although sometimes they just poor out like blood from a wound. I wrote one last night that came to me beginning to end - then, others, the beginning, or the end, and nothing in between. So frustrating. You know I'm an insomniac. Now when I lie in bed, I say to myself: oh no -- it's not that you can't sleep - it' that the universe (or the muse) has given you this awesome 4 hour opportunity to brainstorm - to write, in your head. Your hands are too tired, as is your back, but think of this time as a GIFT. Isn't that sweet? A lovely thought? It almost never works, dammit. I don't get great poems, though I might have a million half-formed fetuses feti? floating around looking for completion. Or just a lot of words. We just celebrated our Poet Emerita here on her birthday; she turned 98 and was signing her sixth book. She began writing in her sixties. She says she has no muse. She puts her seat to the seat, and the poems emerge, not always perfect, to her liking at first,but they do arrive. I asked where one gets such a seat (for the human body as well as in a piece of furniture). It brought a laugh, but I lack answers. Anyway, I like the "wrap myself around a whisper, and the landscape - and the summoning/attempted seduction of the muse, naughty boy - wishing you better luck more often - though your output of writing is really very high and quality!