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Missing The Muse
by Chris Sorrenti
with the lady of the house on indefinite vacation
a distant but familiar quiet settles in
“Amuse yourself for awhile”
were her parting words
“I’ll be back when you least expect me”
I look around
take inventory of all things put on the backburner
while we engaged in artistic foreplay...intercourse
a mountain of dishes
each glass and plate caked with a unique memory
of our time together
layers of dust over furniture and floors
gone unnoticed playing word tag on the computer
amid an intermittent flurry of cleaning
to ensure all is in order upon her return
I catch up on reading
poetry, short stories, a novel or three
words and more words to refill the wishing well
into which she and I not that long ago
tossed lucky pennies for our thoughts
best of all though
it’s Spring!
a chance to stretch my legs outside
amid warming winds and a different set of stars
rising steadily in a southern sky
with wave upon wave of Canada Geese returning home
pleasant reminder of a magical time
emblazoned in the memory
when a special gal and I first met
upon my return to a still empty house
I slip Pirates Of The Caribbean into the DVD
a story with a happy ending
where just before the closing credits
beneath an outstretched Jolly Roger
I’d swear the girl in the movie
looking uncannily familiar
winks at me
as the Black Pearl steers north
© 2004
1,370 hits as of November 2024
03/28/2014 Author's Note: Published in the T.O.P.S. (The Ontario Poetry Society) anthology, Unlocking The Muse, Toronto, Canada, July 2005. ISBN 0-09687157-4-5.
Posted on 03/28/2014
Copyright © 2024 Chris Sorrenti
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Gregory O'Neill on 03/31/14 at 06:15 AM You are a dramatic ensemble! Filed with my 'disambiguation pages'. Best to you. Thanks |
| Posted by Philip F De Pinto on 03/31/14 at 02:04 PM this hits me right in the gut, Chris. I know the scenario all too well and have total affinity with anyone missing their muse. I sure as hell miss mine. They sure don't make muses like they used to, who would abide by you thick and thin through this so called poetic life. |
| Posted by Wendy Geal on 03/31/14 at 05:24 PM I know this feeling.
"a mountain of dishes
each glass and plate caked with a unique memory
of our time together
layers of dust over furniture and floors
gone unnoticed while playing word tag on the computer"
Beautifully put. Wonderful visual. |
| Posted by Laura Doom on 03/31/14 at 07:33 PM A houseload of allusions here, more than enough to inspire poetic musing--and the flag still flying... |
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