Tuesday, March 31, 2009

The Muse and the Poet: Part II

Poet's Poem

Listen man, and listen well
The tale I am about to tell
Broken hearts, as you will see
How the Fates have cursed me.
For purest love I had found
But tragedy to it was bound.

I walked between the blooming trees
Wond’ring at the meaning of these
When suddenly I did discover
There came walking another
Her hair of flaxen golden hue
Her brown eyes sparkling with due
She walked along with poise and grace
I loved her the second I saw her face
I found her name, Fair Rosalyn
Living out upon the glen
Her father, pompous, rich and fat
Let her be about like that
For many a heart she put a-flutter
While words of love she easily uttered
And with her eyes that ever sought
I was by her love-net caught

I rushed home to my chambers dark
Where I practiced my sacred art
And there, with trembling candle stick
I paced the room with burning wick
For hours and hours all I did was pace
As I meditated upon her face
What words would ever be adequate?
To show my love, to reveal it
No food then did pass my lips
Only wine taken in small sips
No sleep found my weary eyes
I simply thought with weary sighs
With stylus in my heavy hand
Block before me, ever bland
Twas midnight of the third day
Before I found the words to say

But here, kind reader, I must pause
And of course I wish no alarm to cause
For when I say I saw a muse
Know I wasn’t mad or confused
The muse was there before my face
As if to give me a soft embrace
But breathed instead so coolly
Inspiration swirling upon me
And barely had it action done
Then I was writing until rose the sun
My work of art so precious, dear
To win Fair Rosalyn, to draw her near
I ran then straight unto her home
And there I gave it to her alone

For many days I had her heart
Enraptured by my splendid art
But then her flame began to fail
For the words no longer would avail
So once more I came into my cell
And drank so more the wine so well
And called upon the Muse so sweet
To come and give my words heat
And it came, but slower this time
But wonderous was its precious rhyme
It moved my heart and teared my eyes
It made me laugh and gasp with surprise
This was it, the final sign
Soon Rosalyn would be all mine.

I triumphantly brought forth the poem
Once I reached her fair home
She read it smiling bright at first
Then dropped her face as if cursed
She threw the parchment at my face
And called my writing a great disgrace
My heart was broken and anger stirred
For this foolish woman should not be heard
Her foul voice spoke of what it knew not
And now my love had changed to rot
I left that place in great fury
And returned home in a great hurry
For her mind was now made crystal clear
And her face I wished would disappear
Then came I to my darkened lair
I was not ready for what I found there

My Muse, it lay upon the ground
Pale and sickly, a writhing mound
Enlightment came from above
That maybe, Muses could also love
I drew near where she lay so still
Wondeirng what a Muse could kill
Through broken lips the whisper came
Though all I could hear was my name
Rosalyn must have done this foul deed
When another poem she did need
For she spent my Muse, my precious one
And now I my Muse is gone and done
I was left utterly alone
There in the darkness of my home
No Rosalyn, all my Muse did give
No reason left for me to live

Listen man, and listen good
Muses require no food
Yet poison still they can find
If it comes by way of your mind
So guard now your Muse well
And that is all that I shall tell.

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