I can see you there, restless,
like a ghost. You dance a shadowy
tarantella through the nether regions of thought.
A delicate balance – a tightrope act.
Any time my sores seep you turn in my direction
and urge my fingers over letters,
dancing scorched landscapes through
spider-blackened memories.
You whistle in minor keys.
And now you hide from me
nestled in a smudgy cloud
of nothingness.
read more feed me ,
you whisper.
I read books to feed you.
I read poems to feed you.
I open my dictionary to random pages
and read.
All to feed you.
It’s bizarre, I know, but without you
I am strangely empty.
Like a dog I want to call you in,
and strap you to my side
but when I set you free and read more
you show up in these lines.
Brenda Warren 2012
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Process Notes: My muse disappeared, so I decided to write to her. It is reading that oils her magic.
This piece was written for The Sunday Whirl using the words in the underlying image.
undercaws 
Ignore that muse and start writing. She’ll soon come back like a little child to find out what’s engrossing you !
Love the poem
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Loved this poem, Brenda, totally relatable for most writers I think. I tend to have a love-hate relationship with my muse…she tends to be a bit of a diva sometimes and asks for more attention. But what would I do without her?
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True, Mary, true. I love my muse, and wish she stuck with me always, but she does dance to her own drummer. I hope she doesn’t garner any diva ideas from your comments. LoL
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Writing a note to your muse was just what you needed to do to coax her back! 🙂
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Incredible poem, Brenda. I believe your Muse has made a fabulous re-entry.
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The muse sounds like a small child playing hide and seek- long after you are done with the game they keep hiding and calling. I may have been a bad mother but I remember just letting my children stay hid every once in a while. Thanks again for the prompt. teri
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Brilliant, simply excellent and on the point too.
Maybe you should get a male Muse. When they misbehave, you just threaten a certain part of his anatomy and the Muse becomes a choir boy. Also he does a good job of keeping you warm on a winter’s night 😉
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It worked really well, Brenda, when you write about the muse like that. I like to strap her by my side as well, but what you say is true, set her free. I like the line ” nestled in a smudgy cloud
of nothingness.” As if nothingness will smudge us like a blob and writing will make us sharp and clearly defined if nothing else. It’s much like that as well.
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I thought it was delightful that you in the midst of your MIA muse manage to maneuver these wonderful wordle words into a windsong the uplifts. So apparently you were a-mused … and in the feeding we were charmed … as usual 🙂
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The wordle words blended in so seemlessly….it seems you fed your muse well.
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hmm… “seamlessly” even. 😉
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heehee…. sometimes the words play with us. Thanks for stopping, Paula.
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Brenda, I love “read more feed me”. I didn’t get it at first, but then it hit me. It’s perfect for a muse; so simple, and yet so loaded with meaning. And I completely relate to the second to last stanza. Thanks.
Richard
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She is a fickle lass. Now she knows you will talk to her she may want more conversations! I love most the dance metaphor. I enjoyed a pause while imagining our muses in various dances with us. Congratulations on conquering.
margo
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The Muse is insatiable and selfish! You did a good job of nailing it 🙂
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Thanks, Tilly. 🙂
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Thank you all sharing your thoughts. I just read through them—it feels good to have readers, and like minded writers who feel similar joys and frustrations. Thanks for being here. You make my day.
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I like your last comment in particular Brenda – I’m forever saying, “the muse wants what the muse wants” but I too, find her hiding or MIA at times and it’s extremely frustrating … this response was excellent and quite right, perhaps that’s what is needed – attention!
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Well, she (Your muse) would be highly amused to see what she bought out in you in her name today Brenda. She did you proud.
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ah, I refuse to acknowledge my muse. Noticing it just causes it to go run and hide. 🙂 very nice piece.
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Brilliant, Brenda! I love, love love this poem! It’s so true! I feed my muse the same way and sometimes she smiles on me and sometimes she … doesn’t. She’s a fickle girl, this muse of mine!
Your first stanza is especially wonderful: “I can see you there, restless, like a ghost. You dance a shadowy tarantella through the nether regions of thought. A delicate balance – a tightrope act.” Restless like a ghost and shadowy tarantella and delicate balance are all perfect. I personally loved the words this week!
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Sounds like she answered your call… I love this, Brenda. Love the dog comparison. I guess our muse is like a faithful furry friend.
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That’s something I need to do more. Love the way you put it.
I see a booklet series: The Care and Feeding of the Great Northern Muse
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Excellent tribute to your muse. Good thing you fed her. 😉
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Outstanding! (claps hands) You are a world-class wordler and poet. Your Muse is just taking a vacation.
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Hi Brenda, I am glad that your muse showed up. You used a good technique to summon her. Mine did not show up today. I think she is now dancing in the field you mentioned on Friday. That’s okay. She can rest just this one Sunday…and she did have quite a workout earlier this week. LOL.
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Thank you, Mary. Yes, it worked for me. I’m worrying about April. I want to join in the poem a day, but worry about the time. I did it last year. That’s where the Whirl was born. hmmmm…. poem a day in April….
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When Musie gets scarce, you can send her a postcard.
Write one American Sentence a day in April, and you’ve got a collection.
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Brenda, I clicked on like, but I should like to have clicked a triple like! I think this is a splendid response both to the wordle and to the reluctant muse.
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Thank you, Viv. Your piece this week is a gem! It had me laughing out loud.
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Fickle Muse! I imagine the goddesses of writing and poetry looking down at us and smiling.
Each word we read, a peeled grape fed to them from polished silver platters…
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Some of the grapes are bitter, or contain seeds… maybe that’s what chases them off. 😉
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Brenda, I love this ode to your muse. I found these words incredibly hard to maneuver this week. Glad to see you wrote this poem.
Pamela
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I finally got there when I decided to write to her. Otherwise, nothing was coming. Maybe she just wanted my attention. LoL
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