Journal for The Journey-A Poetry Class

The Journey of Muse and Man

The muse is like a child
who cannot learn and hope
with an empty belly
or a slap across the face.
He cowers down inside himself,
conceiling what is left
of the gift that he was given
before he found this hell.
He hesitates before he speaks,
listening for footsteps in the hall,
the squeak of the appliances
shuts down the flow of thought.
As fear again grips tightly,
the soul is thrown in locked cages
turning creative energy to rages.

The child becomes a wayward son,
still trying to belong
but sounds of footsteps still
choke off his hopeful songs.
He wonders what went wrong.

The man becomes a lover
who yearns for the affections
of a skittish woman.
Each move her way
moves her further away
till he finds no other answer
but to stop and wait.
Still, without a word,
he sits alone and loses hope
that this woman will reciprocate
the love he’s learned to give.
Just as his eyes get heavy,
for sleep has long been missed,
he hears her footsteps in the room.
She wraps her arms around him
in a warm embrace and offers him a kiss.

Sometimes muses can be like this.


SWPoet

This is the version used for the response poem for Lesson 4. The updated version is on the Item this one originally was on.






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