The Muse at Dawn


Some don’t believe in muses, but
At dawn mine spins my heart.
I don’t deserve such tenderness.
Perhaps one day we’ll part.

Then I will look upon the day,
Pretend she wasn’t real,
Pretend those fairy tales were false,
Pretend I do not feel.


Written for dVerse Quadrille #25 hosted by Björn.

Author: frankhubeny

I enjoy walking, poetry and short prose as well as taking pictures with my phone.

57 thoughts on “The Muse at Dawn”

    1. My best ideas seem to pop up in the morning. I have no clue where they come from. This morning she sort of answered this poem and said, “Our muses never leave any of us. We just think they have.”

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    1. Thank you! Most people don’t believe in them (except as metaphors for their own creativity). I wonder if I believe in them? That might be why I wrote the poem to tell myself that I do think they are real, beyond metaphor, even though I don’t know what that means.

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      1. LOL! Frank….I’ve always seen muses as a woman behind me with a whip! LOL! However, I don’t like the idea that the power of creativity rests in the ‘hands’ of something other than our own hard work. That is why I have resisted this idea of muse for so long. However, IF I had a muse, it probably would be a passel of cats demanding I work harder, write harder for more kibble. LOL!

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      2. I see them as females also, ladynyo. I’m trying to imagine a male muse. It is like imagining a male goddess. I figure I have to assume responsibility for the creative hard work and whether I choose to do it at all, but where does the idea that pops into my head come from? I wonder what a muse gets out of doing all that popping of ideas, assuming there are muses?

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    1. Thank you! It sounded a bit violent to me at first, since having one’s heart spun around may not seem like a good thing, and so I added “tenderness” in the next line to soften any connotations the word might bring.

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    1. It’s a mystery to me where all these words come from even those I am writing now. I suppose giving the muse a female gender is a metaphor perhaps associated with the birth of something new. If one needs something to measure, muses could be some “energetic field” as I’ve read about in HeartMath associated with the magnetosphere, but if that’s the case, I’m somewhat disappointed. Fields aren’t very personal. I would like a muse to be able to make choices.

      I wish I knew what they were. Thanks for commenting, Olga!

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