Tuesday, October 26, 2010

Muse's Fire



While bolder poets fan the flames

Of passion and desire

Quietly I will remain

Beside the muse’s fire

What comfort in the flickering light

What mysteries evoke

The painful hunger and delight

Within this flaming cloak


No Spartacus on stallion grand

Or gladiators glory

Weaving red trails on the sand

In some great, chilling story

I’ll choose to wear the luckless crown

And silently admire

The grandeur of a sigh far-blown

Beyond my muse’s fire


Within the flames I see the dance

Of dreams and memories haunting

I glimpse a form of Time and Chance

Swaying, laughing, taunting

But then I hear the echoing

Of murmurs that inspire

With wild and distant beckoning

From the muse’s fire


My arms would be your prison bars

But still I draw you near

I cannot teach my heart of hearts

To unshed every tear

For as the dew clings to the rose

And ivy to the spire

Darling, I will hold you close

Within the muse’s fire

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