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This Disrobed Poet

Days bring forth no spark
of worthwhile thoughts.
My poetry is in a rut; my mind
stripped of inspiration;

Like a panhandler
palms up
I plead for what
I never had.

I am in the company
of fellow nudists
burning incense,
imploring departed Muses:

Loan me your winged horse;
on Mount Parnassus is a fountain
filled with worthy dreams . . .
My futile entreaties flutter away
like frantic zebra finches.

Only once, fickle Muses had
sent me summer visions;
shepherds abandoning flocks
in pursuit of teasing sylphs . . . .

Tricksters! They had spoon-fed
all those charming lines
to their worthier disciples
long before I was born;
before I took up this cursed pen.

There’s nothing left
for me to say.
Still, I attempt to praise
Creation’s beauty
in a shameless fashion—
as though she were
a naive girl. Pen to paper,
I write—nothing new.
Disgusted
I look at my uninspiring desk—

Joining other disrobed poets
I write stock verses, lament lost loves
play my lyre at Hades’ entrance.

“Woe me, I have lost my Euridice,”
sings spineless Orpheus; he blocks
the gate he bores me—
another loser—

And now, like other defrocked poets,
I must speak of the most
mundane such as
an occasional hangnail.

Style / type: 
Free verse
Review Request (Intensity): 
I appreciate moderate constructive criticism
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content

Comments

yeah, one could say that I'm totally defrocked; but for a few tail feathers--I'm barren as a jaybird. Thanks, very much. Jerry

author comment

Is what your nice piece reminds me of. Wow...

you have such a way with words

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well, you and I know about the way with words I have, but what about the rest of the world? Thank you, dear lady. Jerry

author comment

well here goes lol.
Hangnail hangnail on my toe
I suspect I wish in vain
for I wish that you would go
and take with you all your pain.

Yet you just keep hanging on
like a booger on my finger.
Why won't you just become gone
but instead you stay, you linger.

lol hope you got a grin

like that bugger on your finger
i think I will stay and linger,
but your rhyme sure is a zinger,
nicely done, you bugger flinger.
Grinningly, J.

author comment

I don't wear Robes
people ROB me
so I rather remain cold
surely inwardly bold
all now know
jerry u and I r
EQUALLY old
why now get disrobed

see, I still can inspire you to write p p p poetry. Thanks, bud.
Jerry

author comment

this piece of work reminds me of the rut i'm in right now...a regular sandlot! emotional pain is good for inspiration but physical pain only blocks me up. you are always so deliciously descriptive. thanks for sharing ;)

*hugs, Cat

When you fling poo, some of the stink sticks to you!

"The Book of Styx" can be ordered and purchased on line at:
http://eddystyx.mythramuse.com/

Your nice comment is so much appreciated. I hope you are doing fairly well? Same old thing here, lol. Thanks, Cat. Jerry

author comment

that the old gods are undeserving of all the praise and attention anyhow. Hangnails and cats and mundane everyday stuff should get more press. What, if not the common man, should we promote and sing praises to? We are the bringers of light, we are the meat and potatoes of dinner. Mankind has been held to the flame far too long and roasted for the fat to make candles by which the gods peer into the void. Down with the royalty and the powerful! Make room for the uninspiring life of the common man! As per usual, you have inspired me to make a comment worthy of a poet in the throes of passion. Well done sir. well done. ~ Geez.
.

Come to chat every Thursday - 3:30 to 4:30 pm. EST.
With: c Lynn Brooks and Geezer

from now on I won't speak kindly of those telephone pole crapping deities and demigods--except in derogatory terms like "Hey, Zeus, your wife Hera sucks the hind-teat of a bull . . . " wait--do bulls have hind-teats? I must be thinking of that other appendage. Geezer, let's you and I revolutionize the whole aspect of poetry. Let's write about toenails and crap that even my friend Lovedly would understand. Thank you, kind sir, I knew I could count on your understanding concerning this matter.
Jerry, (Demigod, second rank)

author comment

we can write of things that matter to us, and forget all that playing about with the gods and demi-gods and supernatural beings. I think we ought to break Cupid's bow and give him a Nerf-gun with spongey darts made of plastic. How about docking the pay of all those muses that are absentee? [What do we pay them anyway?] I love the idea of wrecking the status-quo and writing about the things that really matter; like "My Car Is Broken and So Am I". Hey, maybe we should form a C&W poetry site and write about Horses, Dogs and Whiskey? ~ Geez.
.

Come to chat every Thursday - 3:30 to 4:30 pm. EST.
With: c Lynn Brooks and Geezer

how about drooling from the mouth for a topic? With blooming age I'm not immune from those developing dew drops that form around my beard line just when I'm busily gabbing with an attractive neighborhood chick. "Am I turning you on, sir? Noticed you're drooling like a pig." "He is a pig, says my spouse," then, "this little pig will go home and get what he's got coming." Oh yeah--faster horses; younger women; older whiskey--I need to break away from this forum and pacify my good woman. You've got some great ideas, sir Geezer. And that's what makes for fine poetry, lol. Jerry

author comment

I just love this, it's very amusing, Sir you always do it in style even a poem about a lazy muse. Just wonderful.

Thank you...Teddy

are you saying all those nice things to me because they are true? In that case--flattery will get you anywhere with me. LOL. Yes, and Geezer is a funny man. Thank you kindly, dear lady. Jerry

author comment
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