Can a muse become a memory ?
to Parnassus they return
Calliope forgotten
can poetry adjourn ?
The muse is still inside you
in verse rejoined she sleeps
while your hand is silent
she softly, slowly weeps.
Pick up the quill deception
hold it in your hand
feel the verse rekindle
in time you’ll understand.
Your muse will wait a lifetime
she knows your poets will
release the hand that verses
caress that golden quill.
A contest entry
- Goodbye Poetry by poppa.
14089 points, ended October 18, 2008, 57 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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This is fantastic!! You have so described the muse and the truth of a poet, that though the muse may sleep.. it waits to be awakened always..
Love this!
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