The impulse arrives
and I hardly notice
its genesis,
–is it heavenly and noble
or is it of yetzer hara?-
but it demands
recognition,
attention and honor.
So I set out
to bring it forth,
coaxing it out
with pretty words
and ugly truths
and my rest won’t come,
the comfort of resolution
will elude me
until I capture
that wisp,
that whisper,
and pin it
like a mutant butterfly
added to my collection.
My satiation
(like everything else)
is only temporary,
until she
tickles my ear again
and turns my head
to another vista,
and sets
this beating heart
in search of
the next butterfly.
ha. nice....evil inclination...perhaps sometimes....like hte metaphor of capturing it and pinning it....great line breaks around my salvation is temporary....and then giving it context....when it comes grab it and run...you dont know when she will return....
ReplyDeleteThanks, esp for the comments on line breaks. As I have no training in line breaks (or anything poetic for that matter) they are largely a matter of intuition.
ReplyDeleteMy muse comes around everyday - usually flashing me and then donning her chastity belt. Such luck. Thanks again, bro.
No wonder you hate poetry! J/k, great metaphor, and maybe not for poetry...or for other things as well.... A treat, as usual Mosk.
ReplyDeletean elusive and pesky creature, but capturing her definitely seems to allow your words to take flight.
ReplyDeleteI get the idea of capturing something beautiful and collecting it like a specimin. Sometimes in an attempt to save beauty, we cheapen it instead. Love it.
ReplyDeleteNow you teach your sister from annuda muddah more Yiddish. Great expression.
ReplyDeleteLove how the muse takes flight, tickles your ear, little will o' the wisp it is. Fickle, fun, and fine.
The Work of the Poet is one of my tags. That's what I'd tag this one!! Lovely. Ameleh