Another poem inspired by my poetry workshop.
I call upon the Camaneae, the Muses
to help me, to help me write this poem.
Calliope or Clio
Erato or Euterpe
Melpomene or Polyhymnia
Terpsichore or Thalia
last, but not least, Urania.
I know they will not listen
my prayers unanswered.
Invented by men, that is who they serve.
My own muse, a tall dark stranger
the kind you wouldn't stop for
on a lonely forgotten road, late at night
thumbing for a ride.
Where did I find him?
At the 7-11 on the corner
with a six-pack and a bag of Cheetos.
He followed me home.
He whispers in my ear, "That's enough."
So I know it's time to finish this poem
to myself, to you.
October 15, 2008
© Anne Westlund
Poetry by Anne Westlund
Read 662 times
Written on 2008-10-16 at 07:19
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
My Muse
I call upon the Camaneae, the Muses
to help me, to help me write this poem.
Calliope or Clio
Erato or Euterpe
Melpomene or Polyhymnia
Terpsichore or Thalia
last, but not least, Urania.
I know they will not listen
my prayers unanswered.
Invented by men, that is who they serve.
My own muse, a tall dark stranger
the kind you wouldn't stop for
on a lonely forgotten road, late at night
thumbing for a ride.
Where did I find him?
At the 7-11 on the corner
with a six-pack and a bag of Cheetos.
He followed me home.
He whispers in my ear, "That's enough."
So I know it's time to finish this poem
to myself, to you.
October 15, 2008
© Anne Westlund
Poetry by Anne Westlund
Read 662 times
Written on 2008-10-16 at 07:19
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
