Monday After

I thought I had better post something this morning as I have three university classes to teach this afternoon and tonight (I’m so not ready for them) and gadzillions of chores to do. Tomorrow, I’ll get to seriously work on more promotions for my books.  I watched Shakespeare in Love (a fine movie) again, thought about how writers need muses and thought I’d post this poem.

Kissed by My Muse

In New Orleans, nine streets are named for the Muses,
I’ll know their names now, since I met you.
I’ve searched for you, Muse,
So many years, in so many ways,
I’d almost forsaken my quest to find you,
Thinking you imaginary, not of this earth,
And then there you were,
In the flesh, and that one
Meeting changed everything for me.
You took a Muse’s role seriously,
And you set me to work, and now
I cannot write enough.

I know now where the power of a Muse lies,
It’s in her kiss . . .
And with the first one,
I lost myself completely.
Your kiss is unlike any other,
And you tease and test me,
Knowing this divine spark
Is insatiable and has no limits,
I will never love you enough,
I could never kiss you enough.

Do not injure my heart by
Comparing me to other men, Muse,
Please, do not abandon me,
For you are my last chance,
And to keep you with me forever,
You know I would prostrate myself
And kiss your feet.
You know, how lost I am in your lips,
How my heart aches without you near me.
Yes, I am kissed by a Muse, and I
Feel now like a man.
I so worship you.
Let this verse be my prayer,
And my heart the sacrifice.