The Poet's Muse
Posted: Thu Jul 28, 2016 2:34 pm
In response to Philip's (LongMan) post:
The Poet’s Muse
© David Campbell, 28/07/16
The muse exists in simple things,
an autumn leaf, a bird that sings
as if its tiny heart might break
to see the dawning’s first light wake
with eggshell skies of palest blue,
and sunshine on the morning dew.
It’s in a newborn baby’s cry,
a sunset in a summer sky,
the miracle of who we are,
the glimmer of the furthest star,
that moment when our whole life turns
as inspiration’s bright flame burns.
It’s hidden in a child’s embrace,
the welcome on a smiling face,
the wonder of the ebb and flow
of tides, the joy of laughter’s glow,
the love of family and friends,
forgiveness when we make amends.
And when a darker shadow looms,
with shouted words in secret rooms,
and conflict’s flag is then unfurled
across a fearful, troubled world,
the poet’s muse must still be found
to anchor us on solid ground.
The Poet’s Muse
© David Campbell, 28/07/16
The muse exists in simple things,
an autumn leaf, a bird that sings
as if its tiny heart might break
to see the dawning’s first light wake
with eggshell skies of palest blue,
and sunshine on the morning dew.
It’s in a newborn baby’s cry,
a sunset in a summer sky,
the miracle of who we are,
the glimmer of the furthest star,
that moment when our whole life turns
as inspiration’s bright flame burns.
It’s hidden in a child’s embrace,
the welcome on a smiling face,
the wonder of the ebb and flow
of tides, the joy of laughter’s glow,
the love of family and friends,
forgiveness when we make amends.
And when a darker shadow looms,
with shouted words in secret rooms,
and conflict’s flag is then unfurled
across a fearful, troubled world,
the poet’s muse must still be found
to anchor us on solid ground.
