The Spirit of the Muse has possessed my soul,
Over thirty years it has taken hold
And enslavened me beyond my control..
Pen engraved in gold
In a trance sit I many a day and night
The Muse dictating inscently what I must write.
Like a golem I mark the parchment
In my best penmenship I mark the words in red, blue and black pigment
Obedient always to the Muse.
My master watches, pelting me with a golden whip
If I dare pause
He orders me to strip for him
And to kiss his lips..
Filling me with his inspiration.
My craft has become my life's vocation..
Through the years I've collected a menagery
Of poems written with my heart's blood and sweat
Yet through the years of deep obsession
I still sit in this dungeon producing mass poetry
And I long to see the reward of my labor yet,
Though I must admit inspite of all this slavery
I hold no grudge or regret,
Years from now when I am gone, I leave the world a legacy!
Mary Gonzalez (c)2002
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Author notes
Written February 24th, 2002
A contest entry
- Write me a poem in which describes your struggle as a poet and gaining the true depth of your poetry by VocoKool.
20 points, ended May 5, 2002, 3 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
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