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Muse on the Loose

Thalia, Euterpe, and Terpsishore,
three naughty mythical muses,
conspiring at liberty,
having fun with my mind,
making me dance at funerals,
laugh during solemn prayers,
whistle in the
passion of the sermon,
dance during the National Anthem,
sing in movie theaters,
disrupt all solemn moods
with mocking gestures,
 
leaving me alone at my desk
of poetic wood constructed,
my inspirational habitat,
my Utopian sanctuary,
the home that lives in my heart,
the landing platform
for all muses for the moment
at the height of my dependency,
my reliance upon their assistance,
 
flying around in my frustration,
laughing at my stupidity,
flitting about above my mind,
flapping their polka-dot wings,
clowns of the serious skies
on an inspirational caper,
teasing me with their whimsical minds.
 
Damn you, you pompous muses.
Come down from your high places.
Have mercy for my incompetence.
Come into my home, my desk.
Spill your juices into my heart.
Fill my mind with your words
you damn muses on the loose,
clowns of the sagacious skies,
mockers of everything vital,
come down to me.

Otras obras de Robert L. Martin...



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