The Muse

In aMusement


So the Muse,

Who has been conspicuous

Only in her absence these last weeks

(At the spa, perhaps,

Or napping?)

So the Muse

Came back today.

She found me in the shower,

Soap in my hair,

Half done

Half clean,

And she put words into my head

That wellspring of creativity

Finally flowing.

It cannot be


That I, who stand so much

In my Ego self,

Got this gift again naked

And all over soap.


And, although some of the words were there

When I was finally dry and dressed,

Others had gone,

As I must let them go,

And laugh.

Those words were not the ones to light lights,

Mend hurts,

Cradle the new earth as she gives birth.

Or, if they were,

The goddess redirected them

And some other poet got their gift.

One who bathed less often, perhaps,

Or who could walk

Out of the bath dressed only in soap.

One willing just to be the words,

Whose absolute unconcern

Over when the meter reading man was due

Was matched only by

Her lack of caring about what shampoo might do

As she sat typing

And dropping suds like dust across her desk.

This entry was posted in Poems From the Meditation Space and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

6 Responses to The Muse

  1. johnlmalone says:

    it’s a very nice poem esp the second half. I had a conrontation with my Muse today so was looking at similar blogs to mine to see how others handled it.

  2. Alix Moore says:

    Well, my muse offered me about two months of silence recently. I am only just writing again, and only just beginning to mine the gifts of that silent time.

  3. Pat Cegan says:

    Yeah! I love this! I am smiling and smiling! I often have conversations in the bathroom. There is something about the throne room that teaches one humbleness, I guess. I know someone who kept a waterproof white board and water proof pen in the shower just for circumstances like these. more, please! hugs, pat

  4. Alix Moore says:

    I love the idea of a white board in my shower. Little did I know when I “did up” my bathroom in ceramic and river stones that all that decor was unnecessary–that all I needed was just write on/wipe off tiles!

    But seriously, or not too seriously, this is what happens on a good day: I write for hours, think I’m done, get in the shower, get another idea, tell my partner no, I’m not done yet, go back to my desk . .

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