“It Spread Its Wings”

A poem about a lost muse.

I lost my Muse the other day.

It just spread its wings and flew away

And I’m not quite sure where it did go

When it breached that vision of falling snow.

It has left before, but it came back

With new ideas in its Ho-Bo’s sack.

New ideas and words of hope,

So, we began again in an effort to cope.

But this time’s different, don’t you know?

It breached that vision of falling snow,

It spread its wings and flew away.

Now I have nothing more to say.

D. Thurmond / JEF

01-08-2024

Reviews

[Kathy Van Kurin]

'It Spread its Wings'
JE Falcon,
The 'muse' is our own soul, our mind-heart.
When these are not in sync we just have to
wait a little for it to fly back. We also have
to want to enter that sacred place. I don't
always want to though. This writing of yours
said a lot about how it feels to experience
the muse. It can be fickle, right?
I loved your use of falling snow;
"But this time's different, don't you know?
It breached that vision of falling snow,
It spread its wings and flew away.
Now I have nothing more to say."
Your lovely bird will come back.
I know it will.
Bless you much.
Kathy
'

[Betty Hermelee]

It's difficult to cope with life when you have no one to help you, converse with you, exchange ideas with you..it seems your muse was a great companion to you, to your mind, to your soul, as it gave you hope... and that's what we all need in our lives,... and when it flies away, we lose that hope.... maybe she will return....
Warmly, B