Muses are fickle

They seduce with wild abandon

Then leave in the middle of the night

Take flight

Leaving nothing but scent and stain

So you pick up your favorite writing tool

Whisper a prayer

Hope for a benediction

When inspiration doesn’t flow

You force yourself to spread the words


But a forced poem is like an arranged marriage




As for love it may grow over time

Didn’t carry you to the altar though

Better to wait for that floozy

Who runs around inspiring the neighbors

Leaving you to wear horns

Knowing that she’ll return

With a poetically transmitted disease

And an encouraging word




David Trudel  © 2012







Filed under Poetry

14 responses to “Muses

  1. Reblogged this on Susan Daniels Poetry and commented:
    Are you guys following David yet? You should be, if you are not. This was a GREAT read.

  2. unfetteredbs

    to true.. thanks for expressing it. Awesome

  3. This was really good David. Especially the poetically transmitted disease bit.

  4. awesome. love, love, loved it!

  5. “A forced poem is like an arranged marriage” Yeah, even worse…as the painful consommation of it!

  6. leaving you to wear horns…! great line. a strong poem David, thank you.

  7. Powerully written with fascinating imagery

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