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Musings on the Muse
by Ken HarnischHow you come along to shake the timbers;
To lay flame to the arid wood;
To rattle the rafters with a word
And a challenge, and thus
Arousing me, force the words
To spill against the page.
Your late-night visitations
Are of the unholy kind.
I am happy in my lassitude
And know how to thumb
The remote with just one hand
I need not be sent running to
This chair and there
To dream and weave again
With verses I hadn’t known
Were hibernating.
What is it? Your smile,
So damned omnipresent;
Your mind, so quick
To see the curves
Ahead in mine;
The way I adore
Your continuation
In my tepid life
And the way you make
It far more interesting
Than it has any right to be.
If I consider all you do,
And will,
It may engender yet another poem
How insidious of you! 03/19/2009 Posted on 03/20/2009
Copyright © 2024 Ken Harnisch
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 03/20/09 at 02:13 AM Great, brilliant last line. Very nice touch to an already terrific piece of writing. |
| Posted by Alison McKenzie on 03/20/09 at 06:33 AM Insidious muse. I think I see the title of your next poem....LOL. This is great, Ken! |
| Posted by Joan Serratelli on 03/20/09 at 12:17 PM This is great- loved the title and the last line is perfect! Good read and great write! |
| Posted by Melissa Arel on 03/20/09 at 10:50 PM Theres not one thing about this that I don't like! According to this poem your muse is challenging, arousing, omnipresent, quick-witted, interesting & insidious... who wouldn't would want to be all of that in one? Great poem :) |
| Posted by Kate Demeree on 03/21/09 at 08:31 AM As Melissa said.... who indeed? This is a great read that makes me smile. I think that I have felt this more than once upon a time! |
| Posted by Elizabeth Jill on 03/21/09 at 02:02 PM A love poem never had it so good as this song! |
| Posted by Elizabeth Jill on 03/21/09 at 02:05 PM "With verses I hadn’t known
Were hibernating."
Ah! -and they surely dream in your mind while sleeping, surely as the words come to spill. |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 03/22/09 at 02:51 PM This makes me nod my head. Ha! There is no getting away from this presence - I enjoy the synergy here. Thank you. |
| Posted by Julie Adams on 03/23/09 at 06:52 PM I love the vernacular, the confessional tone, the way the poem chats to me as a reader, whispering in disbelief like a stage left onlooker, and I have my mouth agape, taking it all in...kudos :) jewels |
| Posted by Sandy M. Humphrey on 03/23/09 at 06:52 PM Amusing and it makes me smile to think of you, whatever task you might embark stolen away to jot a line, a word or two, because your muse trips across your memory so....and that is why you write so well...smh |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 03/23/09 at 08:33 PM Well stated old man! What poet worth his or her salt can't inject themselves into this poignant verbal canvas you so expertly paint? |
| Posted by Charles E Minshall on 03/26/09 at 03:30 AM Fun to read Ken. I look forward to the next one....CharMin |
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