Sonnet: To the Muse

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.


5 responses to “Sonnet: To the Muse

    • 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….


  1. Pingback: Sonnet: To the Muse | Tinseltown Times

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