Join the Neopoet online poetry workshop and community to improve as a writer, meet fellow poets, and showcase your work. Sign up, submit your poetry, and get started.

MUSE

Some people sculpt, some people paint
but all I do is build and write
expecting little save complaint.
With age I sleep little at night.

I rage against what I can't do.
My mind commands, body denies.
Building days are almost through
but I can still watch sunset skies.

Notebooks slowly fill with verse.
Sometimes I scribble of old times
when everybody had yet ridden a hearse;
before I began penning rhyme.

I write of simple kinds of chores,
of remnants of a time gone by,
of rifts and even strong built doors,
of flocks filling the autumn sky.

Of forests where I slowly walk,
streams encountered, seldom crossed
( sometimes of a careful stalk )
how winter winds leave sedge fields tossed.

I scribble on and try to write
but when all is writ and all is through
by an evening dim floor light
everything I write comes back to you.

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Last few words: 
For Susan my first and final muse
Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content

Comments

I think you have been building your poetry for quite some years and I believe you now have your very own palace. Such a beautiful look inside the scribbler and may I say your title is perfect.

Thank you...Teddy

I wrote a poem to Susan not long after we started dating about 48 years ago and then promptly wrote my second poem about 10 years ago.......10 years but almost seems like yesterday.BTW that poem to Susan is posted here titled "My Love"

author comment

Give me a clue to which year as I have scrolled a lot and can't seem to find the write that you talk about "my love" it might save me some time.

Thank you...Teddy

for a workshop. But I'll save you the trouble and see if I can post it here :

MY LOVE (first poem)
Submitted by scribbler on Sun, 2017-06-25 23:41
My love is like a clear spring day
whose golden sunbeams go their way
then suddenly explode in dew
to sparkle once again like new

Like spotting a quail upon the ground
her young ones following around
with a tiny chirping sound
this bird not sure just where she's bound.

Or spying a small calf just born
a frolicking this sunny morn
crying out with joyful bleat
while running 'round on tireless feet.

And looking at a tall pine tree
whose limbs reach toward being free
Heavenward its substance towers
while shouting out about god's powers.

My love is like a budding tree
i hope she feels the same toward me

author comment

well what a gorgeous poem Susan diserves every merit of this. I think you could write an entire book of your
"most special muse"
second last line instead of toward maybe( for me) ? lol ok i know it just reads smoother... thanks for sharing my dear friend.

Thank you...Teddy

appreciate your suggestion but this being the first poem I ever wrote I'll not be changing it a bit. Gives me a base line to compare my later scribbles to

author comment

lovely
just a god home grown country boy enjoying the writing of the simplistic tings of life
your writing reminds me of the painter that did the paintings for the calendars and simply things of life (can't remember his name offhand) of life

Our chat room is not only there for Thursday afternoon chat 3:30-4:30
but it is there and ready for all to use at anytime of day come often and hook up in conversation to those across the globe

You don't mean Norman Rockwell do you?

author comment

who I would have said. I guess maybe you are the Norman Rockwell of poetry. Anytime I need a walk in the woods, I can find one of your poems and be in the woods in a minute. Thanks. BTW you ever see that picture that he painted of the salesman sitting up in bed? That salesman was my wife's grandfather. ~ Gee.
.

Our Chatroom is open 24/7 Feel free to use it for
keeping in touch We have poets around the world and it is fun
to have real-time conversations with those that are up
all night or on the other side of the world.
.

Being compared to him is pretty high praise. a lot of his stuff reminds me of the little Mississippi town my mother was raised in. I expect you have at least a copy of the salesman paint don't you?

author comment

We have a framed cover from the Post that her grandmother saved. I will take a picture of it and post it for my profile pic. tomorrow.

Our Chatroom is open 24/7 Feel free to use it for
keeping in touch We have poets around the world and it is fun
to have real-time conversations with those that are up
all night or on the other side of the world.
.

will be neat

author comment

Have you seen the picture?
~ Gee.
.

Our Chatroom is open 24/7 Feel free to use it for
keeping in touch We have poets around the world and it is fun
to have real-time conversations with those that are up
all night or on the other side of the world.
.

I see it on your page but it's pretty small

author comment

click on it, it does enlarge. ~ Gee.
.

Our Chatroom is open 24/7 Feel free to use it for
keeping in touch We have poets around the world and it is fun
to have real-time conversations with those that are up
all night or on the other side of the world.
.

click on it, it does enlarge. ~ Gee.
.

Our Chatroom is open 24/7 Feel free to use it for
keeping in touch We have poets around the world and it is fun
to have real-time conversations with those that are up
all night or on the other side of the world.
.

makes it hard to see details

author comment

to get a better picture of it and post it again soon. I will probably have to get the step-stool out and get up closer and try to eliminate the glare. ~ Gee.
.

Our Chatroom is open 24/7 Feel free to use it for
keeping in touch We have poets around the world and it is fun
to have real-time conversations with those that are up
all night or on the other side of the world.
.

have trouble with glare coming off my bald head lol

author comment

to greet each poem fresh, like new painting, in which you consider the work in the merits, not any past association. Like this poem was in an anthology.
Two things would hit me. The rather bland hallmark card like ending, and the fact that the poem achieves for me the opposite of it's intent. The speaker lives for his craft of poetry, and after he is exhausted with his task, what's left, the rest, he offers to his "you", no doubt a beloved. So the lover takes second place. I don't think that's what you meant.

As far as the end, first drop the ellipse points. For me the poem fades off, leaving little passion, and it needs some strong image with teeth, with blood, with deeper feeling. If this "you" is all that, say something about it that mystifies you, arouses you, completes you. Otherwise the "You" becomes like a warm glass of milk before sleep.
,,

Eumolpus
I'd rather learn from one bird how to sing
than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance
ee cummings

I was torn about the ellipses so I'll go ahead and delete them now. as to ending with "you". I had hoped the title would give a strong hint the she was the original muse that started me writing. But I value your input and will give this some thought in eventual edit. Thanks for dropping by

author comment

as you refereed to a "Susan" in the comments, that threw me off. I think looking at the other comments, all thought the poem was about Susan, not the muse. Again, the easy way to solve this is just rename from "Muse" to
"To my Muse" or like that. Why not drive the reader right into the poem?

Eumolpus
I'd rather learn from one bird how to sing
than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance
ee cummings

IS the muse. Now as to renaming a poem.........I am very reluctant to retitle Any poem. Main reason is for some reason, at least to me, it seems like I could be seen as trying to "trick" people into reading the same poem twice

author comment

As always you are good with rhymes ....good reflections too brought out by the verses.... pleasure to read...

be well..

raj (sublime_ocean)

Thank you for your kind words. stay safe

author comment

I haven't been around for awhile, but I hope you remember me. I remember you and your lovely poetry. you have aged like a fine wine...your memories have a soft sweetness to them. I much enjoyed both poems. thank you for this 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/

Of course I remember you and had been wondering what happened to you. Aged like a fine wine? More like a rotten apple lol. Good to have you drop by and don't make yourself so scarce

author comment

in the last couple of years, I've had both knees replaced. and then diagnosed as having fibro myalgia ans psoriatic arthritis. I'm learning to live with the pain. Steve is semi-retired and works from home.he helps me alot. It was so very good to see your poem in the list! I'll be back...you take care!

*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/

have had both knees replaced in last 3 years also. Now neck vertebrae are crumbling and pinching nerves that go to shoulders. Ain't getting old fun? lol

author comment

these are the golden years??? all you can do is grin and bear it...

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/

(c) Neopoet.com. No copyright is claimed by Neopoet to original member content.