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Our spirit of inspiration
Gentle pixie on our shoulder
With her ink-stained wings
And body cloaked in paint
Flitting on the edge of thought
Heard just enough to guide our dreams
Her power is at our cores
Dwelling in our mind and heart
She balances upon a scale
Held aloft by our self-worth
Easily tipped to madness
And swallowed by despair
She is a fragile creature
That can break at any moment
Leaving us a twitching husk
Adrift in harsh reality
With no wings to help us soar
No voice to call us home
She cannot die for good
Unless we will it to be so
We can fight to bring her back
Absorb the pain that made her fall
Using it to forge new strength
And revive our fragile muse
(An old poem from my files.)
Love this, Charles. Fragile muse is right. That’s me today. 😦 I especially relate to this part:
Held aloft by our self-worth
Easily tipped to madness
And swallowed by despair
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Glad you liked it. Having one of those days myself. 1.66 chapters left to go on a book too.
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Wow. I hope you can finish that chapter soon. I wound up writing two paragraphs. More than I had this morning!
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Probably won’t happen for a day or two. My son’s break was more exhausting than I expected. May have caught his cold too.
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Beautiful, I loved the 3rd part, adrift in harsh reality without the lunacy of writing ideas is horror for me!
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Thanks. I fully agree. 🙂
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I always find an apology to the muse works wonders. (I never know what to apologize for so I cover a number of bases.) Enjoyed the poem.
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Maybe I should stock up on apology cards. Just in case.
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Good idea.
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i really like this poem. It rings true as well. Long live the pixie.
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Thanks. That pixie better live long and flourish. 🙂
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