I hung onto the fragmented root from her deathbed, the lips, deep into truncated roses; It was the ghost that fluttered in my heart wanting to die. Muse, muse, my ailments, my garden bloodletter I lived to see it gone and another depression in the rose bush was born, I consorted first the row of angels like cards, seeking the death of my cynicism (it’s like cyanide), to the trill in my chest like a bathing bird; her vale to show her face I pulled back the insanity from my bones; a bovine crown of thorns should rest on my head, I am bygone in the simplicity of madness, my emotions settled on love’s procacity on its technicolor nightmare like a stilled photograph; it’s in my mind, each velvet dream and garden of paper-trees that I sigh across the false prayer, this hiccup in a moment evaporating upon fear orgasmic in the ammonia-ic leaf she smiles from. © 2021 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.
Written for the 7/20/2021 dVerse prompt: Who’s your muse?
As I’m pressed for time at the moment, I’ll come back later with an explanation of my muses.
Back. This poem is derived from what stirs my muse and inspires it: Love. I often have love on the mind when I write poetry, believe it or not. So maybe I’m a sap but it pushes me a lot, whether it’s familial, platonic, or romantic love. It’s a big inspiration for me as I generally have a figure of one of those in mind when writing. I guess you can say I was more drawn by Erato than Melpomene for this prompt.
But make no mistake where love lies, there is hate as well. 😀 It’s the copout explanation, though. I am really inspired by love, but I just twist it around viscerally.
My next poem I plan to target Melpomene.