How do I Find Her? (My Muse)

the place from which inspiration springs forth

How could she be gone from these hands...

where are my feet to travel, in which direction are my eyes to look?

Dormant hands can't break the peace of paper,

my clouded mind produces no sparks. Calling out to

celestial bodies whom I've never spoke to...

I look skyward; these begging eyes were turned away.

The poised sky King, much too busy to bother

with but a spec amongst the kingdom his light rules.

So, I turn to her--- ever eternal mother.

To whom I'm helplessly bound to perch,

roaming her vast landscapes for a sufficient answer.

Traversing icy peaks and exploring gaping canyons,

listening for the ancient secrets they harbor;

if nothing else... why did the rose not speak to me?

Has she hidden herself within the swell of the people?

I seek her out in the smiles of playful children,

in the experienced eyes of elders--- these hands find her not.

Where left is there to look? I call out to my brothers...

poets, musicians, painters, writers. Surely the very translators

of inspiration can direct jaded eyes to the place she may be.

If I am now to be a traveler, she is not

the direction in which I walk, but the compass

upon which I am dependent.

How could she have gone from these hands...

where are my feet to travel, in which direction are my eyes to look?

Author's Note

Thank you for reading.

Reviews

[icelandicblue]

She can be elusive and disappear without warning but she's never far. It's frustrating but as you view the world she will come back and take your hand and you will be inspired once again. It almost feels like you've lost your power of speech but she will return. I loved these lines:

Has she hidden herself within the swell of the people?
I seek her out in the smiles of playful children,
in the experienced eyes of elders--- these hands find her not.

You cannot find her she will find you. A wonderful poem we can all relate to.

[Travis Gibson (poetic heroics)]

Thank you for the lovely review. You are absolutely right, she has always found her way back to me... hopefully, it will remain true for many years to come.

[Frieda P]

Never know where our inspiration will come from, perhaps nature will be kind to the muse, it could be a mere gesture or a kind word from another poet, or the way coffee's aroma entices us in the morning....you've captured that essence in your poetry. Well done!

[Travis Gibson (poetic heroics)]

Thank you, for the lovely review Frieda. It is an interesting phenomenon, how sometimes the smallest thing ignites a fire in your pen.

[Frieda P]

Exactly, I'll find that I want to sit down and write something and it goes nowhere, then something pops into my head and an idea is born, it flows from there...my pleasure always..

[Sami Khalil]

"If I am now to be a traveler, she is not

the direction in which I walk, but the compass

upon which I am dependent.




How could she have gone from these hands..."
I feel the narrator is on a mission to find his muse wheter above or below, whether in reality or nature ever on a quest like a traveler on a certain direction . I like the questioning aspect of this write too...Splendid...:)

[Travis Gibson (poetic heroics)]

That is exactly what I was going for here, dear friend. As artists, we seek inspiration and pull from it where ever we may find it. Thank you for a great review.

[Sami Khalil]

Wow. Good to know...You are welcome...:)