The last bit of business we enacted before our month long journey through Poet Camp, was a discussion entitled: WHAT MOVES YOUR MUSE?

To reconvene the Sunday Seed and return to a bit of normalcy (yes, a relative term around these parts), we will delve further. As creative people of various disciplines, we speak of our muse. Today, write a poem describing what your muse looks like. Give it a name, a face, physical characteristics. Breathe life into your muse, and it will stick around and serve you well!




You are such a pretty thing and you sing
to my soul. You are in control; in charge
of the bilge I proffer as poetic verse.
It could be worse. It could be your brother
that directs my expression. But with each session
you are the reason beauty fills my space.

You make this a wonderful place. A space
where we make my words dance and sing
the praises of the face you present. There’s no messin’
with finely turned phrases. With you in charge
my words ring like no other.
You inject your pulchritude through my rhythmic verse.

You are forever thirty-nine, and I’m fine that your verse
is ageless. I stand still in your shadow trying to keep pace
with the inspiration you offer. You are never a bother,
because your voice sounds like an aria sung;
you are the swell of sweetness waiting to barge
into the room and lift my gloom and despair. My confession:

I love all that you do to lead me through every productive session,
snippets of time where seeds of thought flourish in verse.
You are  demure, yet have the power to overcome; to charge
forward in expression with verve. Your fragrance fills this space.
The gentle trace of your fingers holds no sting.
Every visit with you is a joy! This boy is enamored like no other.

I have spent lurid evenings caressing your softness, just another
suitor with a love for your movements. You are a lesson
to be studied and learned, knowledge that will bring
us closer still. You will lead me to the brink. You will nurse
me to vitality, a reality forged in my mind. A vacuous space
filled with the wealth of words you place in my charge.

Your eyes become my vision. They become large
with the wonder around you. I have found you a seductress like no other.
I am comforted by your tender embrace.
You are a curse and a blessing.
More blessing than curse.
But you make this duet we do something worth singing.

Oh Valentina Sestina! My words sing when you’re in charge.
You give my verse life! Where you revive, your brother would smother
me. This is a beautiful space when you’re in session.

(C) Walter J Wojtanik, 2014