PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Strike me O muse

For I am at your discretion.

Let my words flow like

Dew, nay, like ambrosia

From my lips and trickle

Into the hearts of man.

What say you muse?

What say you?

O Cavernous silence

Condemn me for speaking.

Speak MUSE!Hear me wake thee

Hear my words fall dead

Upon the floor.

What terrible times are these

When a muse shall not beseech

Man to lay out upon the world

A flowing robe of antiquity.

Alas, fair maiden, fair muse

Goodnight, as night shall,

For thee, be eternal.

Good-day, Fair muse,

As this day shall be your last.

Pan shall play a dirge for you

And all spoken word of man shall

Lay upon the grass and listen.

All songs shall cease and

Hark! For the rook bird

Doth lament! Even this

Carrion Fowl doth shed tear

In your reverence.

Should you cast your eye on the

Rising sun of the east,

You shall find an equal reverence

For your word as the word of God.

But I dare entreat you not

Cast second glance to the setting

Sun of the West. For the reverence

Of man has long since died upon

The steps of the patriarch.

You, O wondrous muse,

Who hath fed us,both wisdom and inspiration,

As a pelican feeds it young.

'Tis best to keep thine eyes

Fetterd on the coming vacuity.

A feast shall be layed out in your

Honor, and we shall dine upon

Our own spirits. Lest we find a

Grape vine copious enough to fill

Our souls with merriment,

We shall instead drink of

Ambrosia. Let us dance, let us make

Love, let us sing. Give us your

Parting graces, so that in your

Absence, tragic and foul,we may

Carry on your name for posterity.

Our words shall ensure that

Your sacred body shall not be

Picked by fowl nor canine. Eternally

Shall you rest within a page, ten fold that,

And upon that a million. Forever shall you

Soar upon sweet note, dancing verily within

The voice of young and old alike.

Sweet Muse, let not your last moments

Be in silence. Speak! Muse, you

Wish to leave us in a standing

Of Anguish? Alas, your breath is no longer

Within your chest for

It no longer rises and falls

With the tide. And take note,

Your skin no longer contains the

Very reds of autumn and brown

As well as the earthen shades

Of the summer, for now it has fallen

Into the ashen grey of Winter.

Your lips, once full as the

Grape and equally as tender, have

Now become still and pallid.

Hands, once so soft as to

Stir the very breeze and wake the mind

Of man with but a simple touch, have

grown cold and brittle.

And saddest of all, O exquisite wonder,

Your eyes. Once glowing with every star

In the heavens, The very day star itself

Could not outshine thine own magnificent

Orbs of grace. But. Hark.All life is

Out your eyes. Dull, like granite, they

Rest a gaze upon the sky, and do not reflect

The joy and abounding merriment which

Plays with the bountiful clouds. A tear doth thou

Now shed, which rolls ever so gently

Down your soft and subtle cheek

And from it a Lily

Doth spring from the ground.

Pluto shall bow before your

Waking beauty

And forever more shall man

Weep in the morning for you

Have not brought the sun and

At night, for you have not brought the moon.

Good night sweet muse.

And let my pen fall, for this last time.