A-Muse Me

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A new year

Gather your flowers

Your essential nine

Walk through the garden

And maybe you think:

What shall I write about today?

Love?

If this is so, I need Erato

How can I stimulate her?

How can I convince her?

She needs to be plucked from the garden

To bloom and glow in my vase

As she basks in my admiration

And I am able to create

As her essence and odor permeate

And the brain-fingers coordinate

Necessary for translation onto the page.

Perhaps you think:

Today is a good day for History

Only Clio can help me produce

An extraordinary work of mystery

Flattening yourself on the ground

Gently stroking her stem, her leaves

Before severing her from the moist earth

And setting her into the vase

Next to Erato who is showing signs of

Brown edges and straggly leaves.

And so it goes, nine times

But one of the flowers understands

A magical flower

Who is helpless and will be plucked

And used like the rest of her sisters

But after all

They are goddess flowers

Will live again because

They hold the power over

Those who a-muse themselves

Who are merely the bees stealing nectar

From the Muse who is a vector of

Beauty and Truth

© 2015 ViataMaja, Poezija

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