Tag Archives: muse

flirting with the idea of dishonoring one’s muse

a sure sign I’m no longer young will come
if when my muse should deign to give to me
a playful nudge in dawn’s small hours
I roll away from her in bed
instead of responding to her call
neglecting my duty of being always on the job
pulling a pillow up over my head
I’ll feign sleep and emit a snore but
“Sweet lady,” I will next implore of her
upon her vigorous shaking of my shoulder
“let me sleep, I have no love for poetry
at first light” and so callously I will oppose her
questioning the virtue of her early morning overture
an old man now, one infirm poetic foot
already planted in the grave.

a poem for miss renoir

rebis (green & black) halo II - 72 dpi

a poem for miss renoir

pity the woman
who loves
a poet

for her man
is a man
of idle

and broken

forever pining
after the
allure of
his muse

with hidden

when more
than mere art
call for

nothing can
the lover’s

so now know
you in truth
that this is the
dilemma of
the woman
miss renoir
who is
this poet’s

for without her i am nothing

listening for the
of the muse
a soft, jealous
task of inquiry
after finer threads
of meaning
with which to
craft a fresh
wonder of words

Love Me Two Times — The Impossible Task of Keeping Both of My Muses Satisfied

radiohead at heineken music hall, may 9. Ed O'...

radiohead at heineken music hall, may 9. Ed O’Brien (left), Thom Yorke (right) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I’m a dirty, two-timing swine. There, I said it! And, yeah, I know what you’re thinking now, too. How can I live with myself?

Well, the truth is, it just sort of happened. I didn’t set out to fall in love with two muses. But that’s exactly what has taken place. On the one hand, I have a love for words and writing. While on the other, I’m just as passionate about being a musician. Oh, God, I feel so torn!

You see, I can’t ever indulge one of my loves without feeling I’m cheating on the other. I don’t think being a Gemini helps, either. Because, ultimately, I want to be true to both my muses at the same time, but the physical reality is that there is only one of me. Not two, damn it.

Even as I’m writing this, I’m suffering from the guilt of knowing I’m neglecting my guitar playing. And yet earlier today, when I was struggling to learn the fingerpicked guitar part to Radiohead’s Street Spirit all I could think about was writing today’s blog. Aargh!

And you know what? That’s the problem right there. The fact that I was struggling with what’s really a pretty simple bit of finger work. Now, believe me, I’m not disrespecting Radiohead’s musicianship, far from it, I’m just saying I have mastered much harder pieces five minutes before having to play them at some stranger’s wedding.
(FYI I’m talking about what’s often required of me as a guitarist in a covers band, at this point).

Anyway, lately, I’ve been going really hard on my writing again, including trying to keep up this blog for instance. The only trouble is my guitar playing has dropped off as a direct consequence. I can’t please both of my muses at once, you understand. And it’s driving me crazy, because I love them equally.

You’re probably inclined to think that I should just shut up and choose between the two. But I can’t. If I stay too long away from either passion I get totally depressed. I need them both for different reasons. The power of words and the associated act of writing, more generally, fires my imagination, while playing music stirs my soul.

So, look, there’s this Sufi proverb, I know of, which I like to think perfectly sums up the predicament I’m faced with, which says that, “the imagination is the seat of the soul”. Meaning that the two are totally interconnected.

Suffice to say, then, that I can’t bear to think of living without either one of my muses for longer than a day or two.

Although I only wish they’d kick in occasionally and help pay a greater share of the rent, every so often. Just sayin’…

'Only Sufism' Facebook capcha

‘Only Sufism’ Facebook capcha (Photo credit: FredMikeRudy)

The Thirsty Muse

There is no
at the
of a

of half

a kind
for aged