the poetry will remain incomplete without a Thank you, to a stranger I met at a bookshop... where we discussed: Neruda, Shakespeare, Wordsworth, Cooleridge, Southey...Da Vinci, Michealangelo...and so many to name, each had a muse, and each man including some despots we can name had a muse too! this poem is dedicated to all muses and amused..!
The Deep Sunlight
Cascaded...
Slanted
As the cat basked
Slovely Gloriously
He was busy with his Chisel
Admiring His cat
his Muse...
the Amused Sculptor smiled:
Shy, Lovely,
She Could Purr...
Indeed:-
Mused the sculptor!
Bastard!
She smiled
How many had he lain'
Could he keep count?
Could he remember ?
She Knew;
He was the candle..
She lavished
to Dance like a moth.
Like a mad frenzy, she must
Dance to his Chisel..
Bid..bidding..
His eyes roved over Her;
Drawing in every Breath...
Nape to Toes...
Nude
As the looks locked.
Flushed innocence of a Muse.
"My Demi God"
The mused Amused...!
He had stilled her every where...
In the Mermaids hair,
In the Angels lilt,
In the cupids lift
In the demur eyes,
In the queens brow!
In a mysterious smile..
In a flashing Cherub
Across the seas...across the works
In every works a little more!
she basked...
Smiled ..
Slanted!
TIRED the sculptor abandoned...
took her by his coarse hands...
The muse was his..
His rote to rant!
