Museless "


I wish I hadn't seen it,

But your sweet words I craved.

Those verses penned by your own hand,

From first to last I stayed.

You had no time to write to me

While I was in despair.

I cried a million tears of doubt

Yet, no one seemed to care.

I wish I hadn't seen them,

Those comments to our friend,

Written with that same old charm,

A little French thrown in.

The way you bantered back and forth,

Enuendos that you made,

She may not even realize

That WE are being played.

It's just the same old story.

I've heard it many times.

So which of us was your real Muse,

Reading through your rhymes?

Generic pet names helped you.

They gave you so much space!

But as I read between the lines,

Deception I did trace.

I wish I hadn't seen them,

The blueprint for your fun.

But there it was engraved on screen,

I recognized each one.

Oh, mon coeur, you must think me

A plodding, bumbling fool.

BRB, you say to me,

How can you be so cruel?

For weeks on end I hear no word,

Then get a cryptic note.

I've been the idiot I guess,

But we both missed the boat.


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TREXPATTON's picture

Once there was a man had a pair of old shoes. They were the first and only pair of shoes he ever had.
At one time they fit him well, but somehow they began to fit him less and less well; they seemed to resent him even wearing them. He still cared for them, and shined them, and showed all who knew him, just how well he cared for his shoes.
Then one day he heard of another pair of shoes that seemed exactly to his style, and they fit him, and no-one was wearing them. So he began admiring these new shoes, and found that they were "MAGIC" shoes, which would take him ANYWHERE he cared to go! They seemed to know EXACTLY where he wished to go, what he cared to think, and how he loved to just relax in the inspiration of "MAGIC" shoes.
He did not care to go anywhere at that time, for his old shoes would need to be taken off and left behind, and he could not do that: his shoes were as much HIM as they were THEMSELF. Yet he dreamed of being in these "MAGIC" shoes, and the mere idea inspired him to magnificent heights! He even wrote POETRY about SHOES ! ! !
He decided that "SOMEDAY" he WOULD be able to claim these "MAGIC" shoes as his very own, and he determined to wait and save for them, since they were priceless to him.
He saw other shoes in the marketplace, and some of them intrigued him, even to the point of inquiring of their value, whether they were "MAGIC", and about how they might fit him, or add inspiration, but none of them were as suitable to his dream as the first set of "MAGIC" shoes.
Then, suddenly, the real "MAGIC" shoes disappeared! It was as though they had flown away, on "DELTA", or taken a ride on "THE BUS" !! Still, the man kept alive his sweet, hopeful dream, promised by him once, and accepted so sweetly by the "MAGIC" shoes.
O, and alas, the "MAGIC" pair heard of his looking in the marketplace at other shoes, even opening boxes, taking other shoes out, and smelling their fragrances, but never asking price, nor trying any of them on; his was merely a inquisitive attempt to find his own value, which is always somehow degraded by his original shoes, and now by the misunderstanding by the precious "MAGIC" shoes.
So, now he has only his first shoes, which he will keep, until they wear out, and then he will probably go bare-foot the rest of his life, but dreaming, always, of those wonderful "MAGIC" shoes; the shoes that belong to another wearer, probably unappreciative, but very, very territorial and possessive.
And the man will walk very carefully, so as not to step on thorns, or to wear out his feet: and someday he may again recover his dream and the "MAGIC" shoes, or somewhere he may find some discarded wings, that used to match those "MAGIC" shoes.
Who can say??? Until then, he also is "Museless".

"Poe" I'm not, nor "Rich" am I,
but I'll be famous, b'ye and b'ye !

Ernest Bevans's picture

I read this poem again, and it
made me angry... However, please
remember the lost is not yours,
and keep in mind, that even in this
place of darkness you have a few
good and gentle friends.

Keep Writing - Keep the faith.

Ernest Bevans's picture

On the net there are no 'Muses
or 'Angels'
the "net" it is a region
of facless name and infinate
deception... And the those
target and injured here,
are those who are
sincere and pure in heart...

kat's picture

The Muse is not amused!

Yes, I understand this perfectly. Lying is one thing. But when you find
they are using the same words on another that you thought were yours alone,
it can cut like a knife. Hate to say it---been there, done that too.
This was a very good write, to bad it had to be experienced.