O Thou my Muse, reflecteth much Thy flame
That maketh words within me flow like fire,
Abating not, as torrents deadly spill;
Upending doth within me all transpire.
O Thou my Muse, as once I did disclaim–
And though I run a thousand miles away
And lock up all my pen and ink, and still
Without consent, so choose to disobey–
Yet never could I wrest myself, reclaim
My very life, for all was lost… in Thee.
And only once again Thy captive, will
I find such words as once had set me free.
Then with Thy fire tame me, O my Muse.
My quill and my desire are Thine to use.
David Emeron: Sonnets 
Once you have tamed a rose you must care for her carefully. Or a fox…or an aeroplane pilot…or a poet.
Very nice piece.
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My dearest.
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I protest! I cannot push the “like” button twice!
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This was the result of a wordpress mate or two or three writing “to the muse” type entries and discussing the phenomena involving such creations–such meta-topics as might one so term.
You, and
about you, and
you about you and
me about you, and
you about me, and
me about you about me, and
you &c….
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