I wish i hadn't spurned my Lover
for she has turned me away
as if i were a lowly cur;
I am an infidel unworthy
of her indulgent affections.
I dropped her as if she were
a heavy burdensome brick
that hurt my hands,
scorned her delightful advances
went rushing to Responsibility's summons.
I turned truant just when
she chose to bestow me with
her most generous gifts:
divine flashes of inspiring grace:
ideas racing to lend themselves to poems.
And now when time is on my side
she refuses to return.
The gushing torrent of her blessings
has run dry with neglect.
I despair for deliverance from this dreary drought.
I think you are writing about your muse here. That is my take on it anyway. I know what you mean...sometimes when you have time to write, she is nowhere to be found! I like the way you penned this.
ReplyDeleteI agree with Mary here. And they way you had carefully concealed it and I was thinking the persona was some boy reminiscing a love he had not appreciated!
ReplyDeleteThat was clever. You got me.
Hey, your lines have evolved :-) . You are growing up too fast:-) Good work.
ReplyDeletei could understand what you wrote. beautifully written.. those emotions are heart quenching ones...
ReplyDeleteMadhumakhi it seems your board exams are over and you've returned to your Muse once again...aww... she's playing a bit with you..you're a gifted writer and she'll find a
ReplyDeletehome in you...the lines are really nice..
You have captured a well-known feeling very vividly. I hope this does not reflect your state of mind at present. A muse has its elusive moments.
ReplyDeleteOh, the muse is always quite temperamental, isn't it? She seems to come and go at will. Glad to be able to visit this poem a second time. Smiles.
ReplyDeleteouch no taking it back once we let it out
ReplyDeleteand once they turn away, it is hard to get them back....