March 3, 2016

Lost Words

My muse is dead
no words she whispers
no thoughts of time and space
not one heart beating with pain
loneliness and love
just puffs of fine smoke adrift…

My muse is dead
she left me
pen in hand
smudged lines on paper
yellowed with age
as if she knew all along

My muse is dead
others knew before me
eyes unopen
ears not hearing
their lips pursed to tell me
none did, no, not one
till I, too, was dead


Lynn said...

Could it be that your muse might resurrect?

desk49 said...

death is such a sweet word
Words that holds ones hand
hands longing to write
written words on pages
pages unread through time
time forgotten through age
age that we all fear
fear of an eternal death

around and around

Snaggle Tooth said...

N yet there are words here,
From your head.
Perhapps the Muse isin't even needed...
One can always hope for Resurrection around Easter-time!

desk49 said...

One needs gas for their car
As it sets beside your house
or it just sets there

Snaggle Tooth said...

I haven't had funds to fix my car in a long time now. I'm on foot or the bus these days. Usually i don't mention that-