Fickle

For this weeks Tuesday Tryouts, Margo asked for a poem about our muse. More specifically, I think she prompted us to ‘describe’ this … creature. Unfortunately, mine is a fickle minx who refuses to maintain appearances, if she submits to being seen at all.

Fickle

There are still times when I find her
languishing by the liquor cabinet,
convinced words of higher meaning
are to be found in an emptied glass.

More often she dances in shadow,
a diaphanous distraction who plays
at the edges of consciousness, demanding
attention, refusing a point of focus.

Occasionally, when in a generous mood,
she meets me face to face, shares every
breath, flows as blood in the pen
to become ink on a page.

In those times, all others are forgiven.

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3 Comments

Filed under Poetry, Poetry - Prompts

3 responses to “Fickle

  1. Temperamental little temptress, eh? So your muse is female…

  2. Misky: What else could a muse be but a fickle female? Mark, I like your interpretation very much

  3. Love this. You show her to me, clearly. Minx, indeed. The poem leaves me grinning, and very aware of her.

Some of what I write is true, some is fiction; most is merely possibility.

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