MY MUSE PT I

And I start off with this:

Most of my poetry

No matter what the subject, what the theme

Though I never purposely start off with a scheme

Most of my poems, my dear friends

Are inspired by him.

But I tell no one

And I sometimes deny this

Even to myself

I search, always, in my mind

The words to describe the way I feel about him

Though sometimes there are no words to be found

And so I compose these stanzas

About apparently nothing

Though he resides in all the flow

And all the sounds of my words

No matter how many years have gone down.

I often look back and see

The depth and reach of my poetry

And I read them all the time.

All my word play, pace, and internal rhyme

He just won’t know how little I’ve tried

How little I have to try

To keep his blood running through my verses

Sometimes my thoughts go deep

And I go off on abstract curves

I can write anything,

Freestyle, sonnet, haiku, blank verse

But never once do I waver

From drenching it in his flavor

Every time I turn a fresh page

With a creative command

He just keeps enveloping my pen

From the moment it touches my hand

So next time you read me

Praise me or hate me

Just remember

The muse, the nucleus of my poetry

Another human being like you and me

Turned art

By the way I loved him

And the way he loved me.